


If You're Going Through Hell

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 140,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has a plan to save Killian from the Underworld, but when she, her parents, Robin, Regina, Henry and Rumple get to the land of the dead, they find far more at stake than a mere rescue mission.  Can they rescue Killian?  Can they stop Hades before he enacts his plan to take over all of the known universe? 5b spec. fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Storybrooke_

Emma Swan was no stranger to loss.  It was the one great constant in her life.  Everyone she cared for, everyone she loved left.  Either they threw her away like a broken toy or they…or they died.  It was her curse.

Still, nothing in her thirty years of life could have prepared her for the relentless, unremitting agony of Killian Jones’ death.  It felt as though some giant cosmic hand had reached into her chest, taken ahold of her heart and began squeezing.

Emma lay upon her couch, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, holding on to the ring, _his_ ring so tightly it would leave an impression on her fingers.  There was no relief for this pain, no salve that could even make it bearable.  All Emma saw before her were endless decades of excruciating agony.  How could she possibly bear it?  It was a pain too deep for words, too deep for comfort, too deep even for tears.

_My fault.  My fault. My fault!_   It ran like a refrain through her mind.  It was her that ran him through with Excalibur.  Her that had turned him into a Dark One in the first place.  Her that had ignored his pleading and turned him into the thing he’d hated for centuries.

She wanted to fix this, wanted to make it right, but there _was_ no fix.  Death was final; death was permanent.

_It should have been me!_   She was the one who had caused all the problems with her Dark One actions.  _She_ should have been the one to pay the price.  Not him.  Never him. 

But of course he wouldn’t let her take the fall.  _Stupid pirate!_   He never thought of himself, of his own good.  Even as the Dark One, even having all the darkness in all the realms running through his system he still felt the need to protect her.

Emma heard her cell phone ringing.  Turning her head to the side, she read the name displayed on the screen.  _Mom_.  She closed her eyes, letting the device run to voicemail.  She just…she couldn’t deal with it right now; any of it.

After… _it_ had happened last night, she’d fallen completely apart.  She doubted she’d cried and screamed that much during the entire rest of her life combined.  It was kind of a miracle she had any voice left this afternoon.

Her parents had done all they could for her.  Holding her, comforting her, murmuring soothing words into her ear.  When the ambulance had driven away with Killian’s body—with the other half of her very heart—she’d collapsed, her legs feeling like toothpicks that couldn’t now, couldn’t ever support her weight.  Her father had gathered her into his arms and carried her to his truck, setting her gently on the bench, reaching over and clicking her seatbelt into place.

When they’d returned to the loft, they’d continued to hover—holding her, bringing her blankets to help with the shaking she couldn’t seem to control, pressing a soothing cup of cocoa into her hands.

She’d allowed their ministrations.  After the first violent outburst of grief, she’d calmed into a cold, almost detached agony.  She’d passively let them fuss over her.  Let her mother help her into her warmest, fluffiest pair of pajamas.  Let them tuck her in for the night like a small child, her father pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Emma had dreamed of him, her Killian, her true love.  She’d dreamed they were back in that middlemist field, sun shining down on them, perfumed breeze ruffling their hair, love so strong it was nearly palpable radiating off of each of them until they met in the middle, lips, hands, very hearts connecting.

She’d woken up in the middle of the night, disoriented, joyful, happy for one heartbeat, until it washed over her again—the truth of what had happened.  And the tears had begun again.  Deep, wracking sobs she thought would rip her in two.

Her father had come to her, wrapped her in his arms and rocked her like a little child, his head resting against hers.  She’d felt his tears land in her hair as he grieved for his friend, for the pain his daughter was being forced to endure.

In the morning, she’d descended from her room and resolutely avoided eye contact with her parents, who sat at the table, preparing to devour the big breakfast Mary Margaret had prepared.

“Emma,” her mother had said hesitantly, “Can I…can I get you some breakfast?”

Her stomach rolled, the idea of eating anything making her ill.  “Thanks, mom,” she said in a voice roughened and thickened with her night of grief.  “I’m sure it’s great, I just…I just couldn’t eat a bite.  I’m sorry.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said, using her best _mom_ voice.  “I can’t even _imagine_ what you’re feeling right now, but you have to eat.”

Emma reached for her red leather jacket, hung by the door, and ran a hand through her hair.  “I, um…thanks for everything, but, I just need to be alone for a while.  I’m heading back to my house.”

Mary Margaret had rushed to her then, enveloped her in a hug.  “Don’t do this Emma.  You shouldn’t be alone right now.  You need people who love you to help you through this…”

“I…can’t” Emma pushed through the gigantic lump in her throat.    They meant well, she knew they did, but their care and concern…it was smothering her, breaking her, suffocating her.  She needed a chance to just…make sense of what had happened and she needed her space for that.

She’d run, fled from the flat like the demons of hell were after her.  She’d heard her mother calling after her again, and then her father step in.

“Let her go, Mary Margaret.  She needs to deal with this in her own way.”

She’d been grateful for his understanding.

She’d fled to her home, _their_ home, the promise of their future together.  She’d barely made it through the door before collapsing on the sofa, and she’d not moved since.

It played over and over and over again, the moment Excalibur had pierced his flesh, his stifled cry, his attempt to comfort her even amidst his excruciating pain.  Killian had once advised her not to dwell on the terrible moments of loss.  But he wasn’t here to help her through this like he’d been when her mother had been “killed” in their time travel adventure.  What she wouldn’t give to have his arms around her right now.  They had always been her shelter and her strength when she no longer felt like she had any.

But he’d died a hero.  The greatest of heroes.  His death had _meant_ something.  He’d managed to not only push through the darkness, but destroy it once and for all.  Despite the pain, her pride in him, in her brave heroic pirate knew no bounds.

He’d managed to push through, do what no Dark One in history had ever done.  He’d managed…

Suddenly she heard it.  It was faint, garbled, but unmistakable.  _The call of the dagger._

What the actual _hell_?

Excalibur, the Dark One dagger, all of it was gone.  Totally destroyed.  She’s seen it disintegrate in her hand.  How the _hell_ was she hearing it now?

And in a flash she knew, she _knew_ what had happened.  She’d seen a tiny, almost imperceptible look of triumph on Gold’s face as Killian lay dying.  She’d dismissed it at the time, far more concerned with other things then her true love’s nemesis’s reaction to his passing. 

But now, it all made sense.  Somehow, some way Gold had found a loop hole, found a way to reclaim the Dark One power.

Rage swiftly replaced the pain, overwhelming in its intensity.  It was one thing for her to accept Killian’s death as a hero.  But to have his death suddenly be for nothing?  For Killian’s “bloody Crocodile” to rob his death of all meaning?  _Hell no!_   She wasn’t going to stand for this.

Emma sat up so quickly her head spun.  She reached for her phone and punched in a text message to the son of a bitch with so much force it was a miracle she didn’t crack her phone screen.

She was getting some answers, and then she was going to do whatever it took to force Gold’s sparkly golden butt to fix this.

Her true love was not going to die in vain.  Not while there was still breath in her body.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_The Underworld_

Killian slowly swam back to consciousness…or whatever one would call the state of awareness of a deceased person.   He opened his eyes, slowly cataloging his surroundings, the message his senses were imparting.

The first thing he noticed was that the pain was gone.  Only a moment before his chest had been burning, on fire with pain.  It had taken everything within him to bite back the moans after that first, reflexive scream.  At least he’d been able to give that to Emma before he passed.

In pain he might not be, but he certainly wasn’t comfortable.  He seemed to be chained to some sort of barred gate, his arms spread and raised near shoulder level.  He was stripped to the waist, perspiration matting his hair to his face, running in rivulets down his chest in the hot, stale air of his current prison.

He had the feeling he was in a large room, but it was rather difficult to tell for sure.  The space was dark, save for a small fire that blazed some ten feet before him, a fire that cast weird, undulating shadows around it.

This place was creepy as hell.  Killian chuckled humorlessly to himself.  _Creepy as hell_.  Fitting, he supposed as that was undoubtedly where he was.  He had hoped his last moment of heroism would cancel out a multitude of sins, but it would seem that was not so.

Killian heard a noise, a slight shuffling sound.  “Who…who’s there?” he asked, ashamed of the slight tremor in his voice.  He was no coward.  He’d face whatever demons appeared to him manfully.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head swiftly to the left, spying the form of a young woman bound and tied similar to himself.  She shot him a curious, almost bored look.  “Hardly matters,” she said in a hard voice.  “You’ll be gone in a few minutes anyway  Assuming, of course, you didn’t piss the powers that be off as much as I have.”

Killian had more questions than he knew what to do with, so he settled on the most pressing at the moment.  “What do you mean I will be gone?  Where will I be going?”

She snorted.  “Well, that entirely depends.  Just what kind of man are you…other than the obvious--drop dead gorgeous?”

Killian was trying to formulate a reply to that question, when suddenly his attention was arrested by the closing of a door and the unmistakable sound of footsteps drawing near.  He instinctively tried to reach for his sword before he remembered he neither had a sword nor a hand free with which to wield it.

A man in long, black robes, with odd, blue hair that flickered like a flame and a 100 watt smile, featuring sharp, broken teeth stepped into view.  Following him closely were two…well, Killian didn’t really know what they were.  They looked like tiny, ugly old men with elongated ears and bulbous noses.  Killian thought they looked rather like those creatures from that wizarding motion picture Emma’s lad had him watch.  What were they called?  House elves, he believed.

“Pain!  Panic!” the man called.

“Yes, your lugubriousness,” the creatures answered, eagerly stepping before their master and bowing obsequiously.

“What’s with the mood lighting?  Can’t see my nose in front of my face.”

“Our apologies,” the creatures answered.  “Trying to save energy.”

“What?” The man asked in an exasperated voice.  “We’re powered by fire and brimstone.  No lack of that around here.  Turn on some lights!”

A moment later, a switch was flipped, and the prison was bathed in light.  Killian’s eyes widened as he took in the surroundings.

If he was not mistaken, and he very much doubted he was, his prison was the cellar (or possibly it would be more appropriate to call it the _lair_ ) of the home he and the lad had chosen for Swan.

“How’s it going?” the blue haired man said sticking out his right hand.  “Name’s Hades.”

Killian raised one eyebrow.  “Pleased to make your acquaintance.  Killian Jones at your service.  Pardon my rudeness in not taking your offered hand.  I seem to be a bit tied up at the moment.”

“Right, that,” Hades said, eyeing the chains holding Killian in place.  “Just standard procedure.  I don’t make the rules; I just enforce them.”

“Actually, your evilness, you kind of do make the rules,” one of the imps offered helpfully.

Hades glared at the miscreant.  “Did I ask for your input?”

He didn’t wait for his sycophant’s answer but plowed on ahead.  “So here’s the drill.  First of all you’re dead.”

“Somehow I’d gathered as much when I was run through with a sword,” Killian dead-panned.

“When she stabbed you with her sword, you felt it, am I right?” Hades said, smile spreading yet wider if that were possible.

Killian didn’t dignify the quip with a reply, merely stared the king of the Underworld down with a raised eyebrow.

“You know, I like you,” Hades said, stepping up and patting Killian on the shoulder.  “You’ve got spunk.  None of that sniveling and crying and begging.  Hurts my head.  Anyway, let’s get down to business.  Pain!  Panic!  The projector.  Here’s the deal.  We watch a movie of your life, your good deeds and bad deeds are weighed and then you get sorted into your eternal destiny: Paradise for the heroes, hell for the villains, and right here in the good, old Underworld for those with unfinished business.  Ready to get started?”

“I can hardly contain myself, mate,” Killian answered drily.

A large screen was erected before his eyes and a projector was turned on (at least that’s what Killian assumed was happening.  He’d never seen such a devise.  It resembled the moving pictures Swan produced on the Netflix machine, but it was on a far larger scale.)

Peppy music began and a deep voice announced “Killian Jones, this is your life!”

For the next two hours Killian watched everything he’d ever done in his long, long life.  Following each deed, an animated scale with big, googly eyes and a wide smile appeared on screen.  The scale consisted of two large pans; one labeled “hero” and the other “villain.”  Every time it appeared a handful of coins landed in the appropriate pan. 

It was rather excruciating, watching the terrible things he’d done in his past.  The lives he’d destroyed, the agonizing effects he’d set into motion.  But there were good moments too.  Helping Swan obtain the compass at the top of the beanstalk, turning his ship around and offering his services to find Henry in Neverland, giving his life to defeat the darkness.

When the motion picture had come to an end, the screen went blue.  A new musical selection began.  Killian vaguely recognized it as the theme to that game show Belle enjoyed so much.  Jeopardy, wasn’t it called?  It played to its conclusion, and then the screen went black.

“Killian Jones,” a deep voice boomed, “you have been weighed and deemed to be a hero.  You have, however, yet unfinished business to be completed.  Until that has been completed, you will remain in the Underworld.”  The voice changed to one that sounded suspiciously like the blue haired man standing before him.  “Our handsome, talented, charismatic, and utterly perfect overlord, the god Hades, will now provide you with your new name and occupation.”

_New name and occupation? What?_

Hades stepped once more into the light, and Killian noticed that he looked far less jubilant than he had when he’d first arrived.  He almost looked…frightened.  After a moment, he shook his head, bits of fire from his hair falling to the ground and fizzling out.  He pasted on a grin that looked far from sincere.

“Colin,” he said softly.  “I think the name ‘Colin’ will suit you.  Last name…hm…let’s see..Delamer.  Your new name is Colin Delamer.  And as for your new occupation…”

“Oh, oh, oh I know!” one of the imps shouted, jumping up and down with his hand in the air.  “We’ve been looking for a trash man _forever_.  No one wants that job!”

“Gods give me patience!” Hades said with a roll of his eyes.  “No!  How many times must I tell you pea brains that _I_ assign the jobs around here?”

Silence reined for a moment, and that strange hint of fear passed over Hades’s face again before he finally nodded decisively.  “A writer.  You, Colin Delamer, will be a writer.  A very, very, very reclusive writer.”

Purple smoke billowed around them and Killian felt himself falling, falling falling, until the darkness swallowed him and he knew no more.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hades poofed his way back to his spacious mansion on the edge of town.  Landing in his study, dressed once more in his street clothes—a well-tailored black suit, brown hair carefully coiffed, polished shoes—he began pacing.  He had a bad feeling about this latest Underworld resident.  A really, really bad feeling.

What was that last prophecy the Fates had given him?  Something about a monumental battle…his defeat…fire and brimstone…yada, yada, yada.  All the normal creepy Fates stuff.  “When the stars align, Hercules will bring you defeat.”

But that wasn’t all; there was something else, something on the tip of his tongue.  Something Killian Jones’s life brought back to mind.  Something that scared the hell out of him.  When his servants finally arrived, he’d have them look it up in the “Fates’ prophecies” record, but until that time…best he keep an eye on this Killian Jones and keep him as far away from the other Underbrooke residents as physically possible.

 

_Notes:_

_\--Here we go!  My long (right now, according to my outline, this will be 30 chapters) speculation fic about what 5b will bring us.  This fic isn’t a prediction, per se; in fact, I think some of my plans for this story have already been debunked by interviews with the writers.  I suppose the best way to describe this story is that it’s the story I would write if I was in charge of plotting 5b._

_\--Sorry about all the angst right off the bat!  I wanted to really get into Emma’s head as she deals with the immediate aftermath of Killian’s death—and, I’m pretty sure Emma’s head was in a_ really _bad place until she came up with a plan to save her true love.  Luckily, I think I can say that that was one of the angstiest scenes you’ll find in this story.  It’s all uphill from here! (Well, along with the normal roller coaster of danger and adventure and lesser angst.)_

_\--Who was that random woman with Killian when he first woke?  Why did Killian get a new name and a new profession?  (Btw, his new last name, Delamer is basically the French phrase “de la mer” all slammed up together.  It means “of the sea”.  I thought that was appropriate.)  What is it about Killian that Hades finds so concerning?  What’s all this about a prophecy?  How are Emma and company going to find Killian and bring him back home?  Keep reading to find out!_

_\--Oh!  By the way, in this story, Hades lives in the Underworld version of the Sorcerer’s mansion._

_\--Up next: We start out with Hades’s backstory.  We find out how he ended up the god of the Underworld—and just what he thinks about that situation.  Back in Storybrooke, Emma goes to the Charming’s loft after talking to Gold and lays out her plan to get her True Love back from the Underworld (basically an expanded take on what we saw in the midseason finale).  Meanwhile, Rumple bids Belle goodbye.  Hm…I wonder what his_ real _reason is for accompanying the heroes down to the Underworld.  Hint: Never trust Rumple.  Never, ever, ever, ever, ever trust Rumple._


	2. Chapter 2

_The Underworld, many centuries ago_

“Pardon, Your Evilness,” came the hesitant voice from the doorway of the study, “but there are a number of items that need your attention.”

Hades scowled at the interloper.  What was _with_ this place?  Couldn’t a god _ever_ sulk in peace?  He was more than half tempted to join the sullen at the bottom of the river Styx.  At least they didn’t have people interrupting them every five minutes.

“What now?” he thundered, looking the skinny, bespectacled man up and down contemptuously.

“Things in hell have been a bit…chaotic…since all this upheaval with the titans and your father’s retirement and the new regime…”

Hades felt his hair fire shoot higher.  “It’s _hell_.  Of course it’s chaotic.  What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, sir,” the man said, “you know full well—at least you would if you’d spent any time learning of your new domain—that there is an order to hell, the nine rings and all of that.  If order is not maintained all hell will break loose.  I can promise you that would be a most unpleasant experience for all of us.”

Hades sighed loudly.  “Fine, fine.  Who needs what down there?”

The man droned on and on for what felt like centuries about everything from Cerberus running out of dog biscuits to Charon’s ferry springing a leak, to the minotaur guarding ring seven needing a salve for the place he bit himself when Dante and Virgil stopped by, to the demons running out of boiling pitch to toss the corrupt politicians in. (And the giants guarding ring 9 were grousing that their ice supply for the traitors was dwindling rapidly as hell had yet to freeze over this winter.)

Seems things really had gone to hell in a handbasket over the last week while Hades was busy being defeated by his “perfect” brother Zeus and backstabbed by his own father.

“Fine, fine,” Hades said, waving a hand lazily at the man.  “You’re authorized to…do whatever the hell needs to be done to make everyone happy.”

“Hell is not a place for happiness, sir.”

Like he didn’t already know that!  “Just take care of it!  Is that all?  I have a good two hours of wallowing in self-pity before it’s time for the afternoon round of maiming and torturing those who piss me off—like you, for example.”

The stupid man looked completely unfazed.  “No, Your Evilness, that is not remotely all.  There is yet the difficulty of the unrest within the Underworld.”

“What’s wrong with the Underworld?”

“Well, these…improvements you’ve made.  It would seem they’ve ruffled a few feathers.”

_What NOW?_   His improvements had _improved_ life.  When he got here, first thing he did was modernize.  Running water, electricity, television (true, there was terrible reception down here; all they could ever get were bad infomercials), all that jazz.  What could there _possibly_ be to complain about?

“Yeah?  What are they upset about now.”

“Well, it seems they’ve come to the conclusion that your so-called ‘improvements’ have only created safety concerns for the residents.  We now have two furies out of commission and in the infirmary.  It seems they were unaware of the deleterious effects of placing one’s finger in a light socket.”

He was surrounded by idiots.  Absolute blithering idiots.

“Fine!” he erupted.  “Call an Underbrooke town meeting.  I’ll see if I can address concerns.”

“Very good sir,” the man said before _finally_ bowing his way out of the study.

As soon as he was alone again, Hades slumped into his plush, office chair.  How had his afterlife turned into this?  Him, the first born son of the most powerful god ever to god.  _This_ was his thanks for all his centuries of loyalty to his father?  Hell?  He was the lord of _hell_?

Sure, everyone said it was a fair election, the luck of the draw and all of that, but he more than half suspected his brother had rigged the whole thing.

Hades let his mind wander back to that fateful day two weeks ago.  He’d been minding his own business, just hanging out on his cloud, daydreaming about the day Mount Olympus and everything else would be his.  It would be glorious!  Anyway, he’d just finished deciding how he’d redecorate the throne room when he got the summons to appear before his father.

He’d arrived, carefully draping his best “obedient son” smile on his face as he faced the god Cronus, head god, ruler over Elysium, Mount Olympus, the Underworld and Hell. 

Cronus, otherwise known by Hades and Zeus as “dad”.  Hades noted with satisfaction that he arrived before his father’s throne a good five minutes before his “perfect” brother.

When Zeus finally dragged his lazy butt to the room, the audience began.  Hades waited excitedly for his father to begin speaking.  Cronus _never_ called both of his sons before him in this formal manner unless something _big_ was going on.  Hades had a feeling he knew what that _something big_ was going to be.  This would be the moment he got his birthright.  This would be the moment all of his centuries of slaving for his father (aka aggressively sucking up) would pay off.  This would be the moment he _finally_ got what he so richly deserved.

“My sons,” Cronus began in his deep, booming voice, “I must once again offer my most heartfelt thanks for your role in the recent battle which expelled the titans from Mount Olympus.  Without your exemplary leadership, our battle would have most assuredly been lost.”

“It was no problem, father,” Zeus simpered.  “It was merely our duty as your sons.”

“Nevertheless, your actions were noticed and appreciated,” Cronus said with a nod of the head.  “It cannot be understated how difficult this battle was, and, in short, it is that very fact which prompted me to call you before me today.”

“How might we serve you, Father?” Hades said in a voice so syrupy sweet it was sickening.

“After much discussion with your mother, Rhea, we have decided the day of our retirement is upon us.  We shall shortly retire to Elysium, and thus my throne must be passed on.”

Hades leaned forward, trying with everything in him to keep his eagerness from showing on his face.  This was the moment!  This was the moment he, as the firstborn would _finally_ inherit the throne he’d been groomed for since infancy.

“So then there is but one question to be decided,” Cronus continued.  “How am I to equitably divide my empire among my sons?”

Hades frowned.  What was there to divide?  It was a simple matter.  To the firstborn go the spoils.

“In short, I have decided my empire must be divided between both of my worthy sons.  One must rule over Mount Olympus and Elysium.  To the other shall go the Underworld and hell.”

Hades’ frown deepened.  This was not going at all to plan!

“How will it be decided which will rule which kingdom?” Zeus asked, smile still draping his face.  _Of course Zeus is smiling!  He somehow managed to convince our dad to screw me out of half of my birthright!_

“Simply this, my sons,” Cronus said.  He waved his hand, and a red, velvet bag appeared, suspended in the air before Zeus and Hades.  “I have created two talismans: one inscribed with a lightning bolt for the god of Elysium and the other inscribed with a skull for the god of Hell.  The talisman you choose will be your commission.  Be advised:  Your talisman shall be far more than a mere symbol; it shall be the seat of your power.  The holder of the talisman shall never be defeated or overthrown.”

And then the day that had devolved with every passing moment became yet worse.  Hades and Zeus reached into the bag together and chose their commission.  Hades stomach had dropped to his toes as he peered down on his—ugly, grinning skull peering back at him.  Not only had he lost the ability to control all, he had been barred from Mount Olympus.

So here he sat, in the lavish mansion he’d taken for himself in the Underworld.  It was a crock!  A sham!  A gross miscarriage of justice, and Hades had no intention of standing for it.  Somehow, someway he _would_ get his throne back.  Somehow he’d find a way to take back what was his.

Even if his dad’s stupid talismans made it impossible for him to steal the throne outright, he’d still get it in the end.  Zeus had no wife, no son, no one to inherit from him.  All Hades needed to do was bide his time; eventually his brother would retire, and then all the power in all the realms would be Hades’s.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Storybrooke, present day_

David washed his hands, and then peered at himself in the bathroom mirror.  He was shocked at what he saw.  He looked pale, haggard.  The last few days had tested him more than any others had in years.

How had it come to this?  How was it possible that Hook… _no Killian_ …was dead.  The stupid pirate bragged all the time about how he was a survivor.  How the hell had this happened?

David took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, glancing toward the kitchen where his wife was frantically washing dishes.  She was troubled, he could see that clear enough.  She never worked this frantically unless something was seriously bothering her.

It was no wonder after the day they’d just endured.  David felt the pain and helplessness settle over him once again.  His family was falling apart.  His wife was close to breaking.  His daughter was so distraught he had no idea when or how she would ever recover.  He was barely holding it together.  Only little Neal, who still happily remained oblivious in the fairies’ care, was still whole.

Mary Margaret looked up as David approached, and pasted a far-too bright smile on her face.

“I’ve been thinking, David,” she said as he grabbed the dish towel and began wiping dishes.  “I know Emma isn’t up to dealing with it yet, but we’ll have to figure out about the funeral.  I thought we could have a nice meal at Granny’s for the town afterwards.  You know, a way to honor Killian and say goodbye.  There’s lots to get ready.  I should start cooking.  As the mother of…well, as Emma’s mother it’s only right I help Granny with the food.  What do you think?  I found a recipe for a chocolate rum cake.  Sounds appropriate doesn’t it?  There’s so much to do!  So much to arrange!  Where should the funeral be?  Do you think Emma would want a viewing beforehand?  I’m sure the fairies would let us lay him out in the convent.  People could pay their respects…”

With every passing word, Mary Margaret spoke faster, brighter, more determinedly cheerful.  It hurt to see how hard she was trying; how much pain she was covering.

David stepped forward, and with both hands on Mary Margaret’s shoulders, he turned her toward him.  He saw the tears in her eyes, tears she was apparently holding back only through sheer will-power.

“Hey,” he said, “slow down.  Just take it easy.”

Mary Margaret frowned.  “I can’t slow down.  Funerals take a lot of work.  There’s so much to do.  I have to…”

David shook his head until she finally stumbled to a stop.  After a moment she crumbled, melting into his waiting embrace, letting her tears finally fall and soak through his shirt.  He merely held her for long moments, head resting on hers, aching for her, for Emma, _for himself_.

“She’s in so much pain, David,” Mary Margaret finally said in a broken voice.  “I’ve never in my life seen her like this; never even _imagined_ her like this.  And how can I blame her?  She just lost her true love. How do you recover from that?  How can you ever be whole again?”

David felt the tears rush to his eyes.  “Emma’s…” he cleared his throat, trying to gain control over himself; trying to be strong, his wife’s rock.  “Emma’s a strong woman, honey.  She’s got a tough road ahead of her, but she’ll heal.  She has a family now; a family who loves her and will do anything for her.  I have to believe it will be a help.”

“That’s just it,” Mary Margaret said, pulling back slightly and looking into his eyes.  “ I feel so _helpless_.  There is nothing.  _Nothing_ I can do to help or comfort my daughter.  I just…I feel like I have to do _something_.  Planning the funeral arrangements might not be much, but at least it’s something I can do to help her.”

“And it will be a help,” David said, gently caressing her arms.  “I’m sure she’ll be grateful for all your efforts, but you can’t work yourself into a frenzy.  We need to take a deep breath and..find some way to deal with this.”

“I suppose,” Mary Margaret said.  “I just wish she hadn’t left us this morning.  When I think of her alone in that big house, dealing with the kind of wrenching agony we saw her feeling last night…I just…I just can barely stand it.”

“I know, honey,” he said, “I know.”

Mary Margaret rested in his embrace for another long minute, and then pulled away, wiping at her wet cheeks.   “You wanna help me with dinner?  Regina and Robin and Henry will probably be here in a few minutes, and…”

The phone rang.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Hey Mom, it’s me,” Emma said as she stepped from Gold’s shop and shut the door with enough force that a few of his knick-knacks fell from their shelves and crashed on the floor.  The sound brought Emma more than a little satisfaction.

“ _Emma!_ ” came Snow’s concerned response.  “ _Are you alright, honey?  Is there anything we can do?”_

Warmth filled Emma despite the ache in her heart.  This loss may be the most painful one she’d ever endured in her life, but the fact that she had a family, people who loved her to help her through…well, it meant more than she could ever say.

“Yeah,” Emma answered.  “I’m…well, maybe ‘alright’ isn’t the right word, but…I’m surviving.  Listen, would it be okay if I came over for a minute?”

“ _Of course!_ ” Snow said, relief evident in her voice.  “ _You don’t even need to ask, honey.  You are_ always _welcome here._ ”

“Thanks,” Emma answered, turning to corner, seeing the Charming’s apartment complex up ahead.  “There’s something I wanted to talk to you guys about.  I have an idea, something I think will fix everything!”

_“Oh…”_ she heard the hesitation in her mother’s voice.  “ _That’s…wonderful honey. Regina and Robin are here with Henry.  I hope that’s not a problem.”_

“No,” Emma said quickly.  “That’s fine; great really.  They should probably hear this too.”

“ _Okay…”_ Snow said slowly.  _“I suppose we’ll see you soon, then?_ ”

“Five minutes, tops,” Emma said, and then hung up.

They were going to fix this.  They were going to make this right!  Rumple may be a world-class son of a bitch, but he could help them; he could get them to Killian.  Emma’s heart felt lighter than it had been since she took on the darkness almost two months ago.  That future Killian wanted to give her?  They could have it after all.  Emma fingered his ring once more.  This long nightmare would be over before she knew it.

“Hold on, Killian,” she whispered as she pulled open the heavy outer door to the apartment building.  “I’m coming for you.”

Emma had barely stepped into her parents’ apartment before she was enveloped in her mother’s arms…and then her son’s .  Emma’s heart ached at the hurt on Henry’s face.  She’d been so immersed in her own pain she’d barely thought about how this would affect her boy.  He and Killian had been spending a lot of time together lately, and she knew Henry loved him too.

“Sorry kid,” she said through a suddenly tight throat.  “I haven’t been much of a mom to you over the last few weeks.  I know this is hard for you too.”

He shrugged, trying his best to mask the pain.  “’S okay, mom.  I get it.  You miss him a lot.  My other mom and Robin have been great; I’m okay.”

Emma looked over Henry’s head and shot Regina a grateful smile.  Regina nodded in acknowledgement.

“So…” Snow said.  “You sounded…kind of worked up on the phone.  What’s going on.”

Emma took a deep breath, not at all sure how her family was going to take this.  “Yeah, worked up is one way to put it.  I’d just left Gold’s shop, and…”

“You were at Grandpa’s place?” Henry asked curiously.  “Why did you go there?”

“Because,” Emma said in a hard voice, “I heard the dagger.  Heard it whispering, calling to Excalibur or whatever.  Not sure how that works now that Excalibur’s gone.”

“But Emma…” Snow said, “that’s impossible!  The dagger’s gone.  We _all_ saw it disintegrate!”

“Yeah,” Emma said in a hard voice.  “That’s certainly what it looked like.”

“Miss Swan,” Regina said, with a raised brow.  “You’re not making sense.  Did or did not the dagger disintegrate.”

“It did not,” Emma bit out.  “I heard it; I heard it whispering, and somehow I _knew_ what happened.  Gold screwed us all.  He found a loophole, a way to steal back the Dark One power for himself.  When I….when Killian died…” (Her voice broke but she had to get through this.  She had to focus on the anger rather than…rather than any of the rest of it.  She cleared her throat.)  “When it happened, Killian only _thought_ he was destroying the darkness; instead it all channeled back into Rumple.  He’s the Dark One again.”

“Son of a bitch!” Regina bit out, starting to pace.

“Exactly,” Emma continued.  “Everything Killian did…he gave up _everything_ for us!  He gave up everything to destroy the darkness once and for all and that _bastard_ took it all away from him; made his death senseless!”

“Oh, Emma!” Snow said, hand coming up to cover her mouth.  “I’m so sorry honey, so, so sorry.”

“It’s not you that need to be sorry!” Emma growled.  “And…well, it’s okay, because you know what?  I’m not just going to take it.  I’m not going to let Gold win.  I’m not going to let Killian die for nothing!”

“What are you saying?” Charming asked cautiously.

“I’m saying I’m getting him back,” Emma said.  “I’m going after Killian, and I’m bringing him back!”

Silence reined in the apartment for long moments, her parents, her son, her friends all exchanging concerned, startled looks.

Finally Snow spoke.  “You’re going to _hell_?”

“The Underworld,” Emma clarified.

“That’s quite a distinction,” David offered.

Emma had to make them see; had to make them understand.  Her parents were Snow White and Prince freaking Charming, for heaven’s sake!  Surely if anyone could understand the lengths someone would go to save her true love it was them!

“I’m getting him back,” she said, looking earnestly at her parents.  “This isn’t fair to Killian.  Gold tricked him; everything he gave up was based on a lie.”

Her parents shared another look.  “Emma, you know how this works,” her father said.  “It’s a one-for-one trade.  To get him back, someone else will have to die.”

“And you _just_ got back from being the Dark One!” Mary Margaret threw in.  “You can’t give into darkness again!”

“I won’t!” Emma said quickly.  “I’m giving in to love.  I’m doing this right; I learned my lesson.  I’m taking a page out of your book.  You two share a heart; so will we.”

Mary Margaret stepped forward, her hand outstretched.  “Emma…I know you love him; I know you miss him, but…that’s _incredibly_ dangerous.  It’s only the strongest, truest love that can survive that.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, focusing in on her mother.  “And that’s what Killian and I have!  I _know_ this will work!  I _know_ I can save him.  I _know_ our love is strong enough!”

They were silent for another moment.

“It could work,” Regina offered.

Emma turned toward her.  “It _will_ work!”

David stepped forward.  “Alright.  We’re in,” he said.  “We made some serious mistakes back in Camelot.  We didn’t understand what it would do to you to lose Killian; we didn’t even _try_ to find a solution to his Excalibur cut that wouldn’t have made you feel like you had to act on your own.  Least we can do is help you get your true love back now.”

Emma rushed forward and enveloped her father in a hug.  “Thanks dad.  You have no idea what that means to me!”

“For what it’s worth, we’re in too,” Regina said, lacing her fingers with Robin’s.  “After what you did for me—taking on the darkness to save me—how can I refuse to help you now?”

“Thank you!”

“Just give us a bit of time to work out the logistics,” Robin put in.  “I’d like to bid my little lad farewell, make sure the fairies are willing to care for him and our daughter.”

“And we’d better do the same for Neal,” Mary Margaret said.

“What kind of clothes do you think I should wear?” Henry asked.  “I mean, I know hell’s supposed to be hot, but do you think that’s really true?”

Emma shot her son a startled look.  “Doesn’t matter; you are _not_ going to the Underworld with us, kid.”

Henry shot her a stubborn look.  “I want to help you!”

“No!” Emma and Regina shouted in unison.

“I’m the author and a hero now!” Henry reasoned.

Emma crossed her arms.  “And we’re your mothers!”

“When I was ten,” Henry said with a frown, “I got on a bus to Boston by myself to find you.  You leave me behind, I’ll find another way.”

“Kid…” Emma said slowly.  “This is serious stuff.  You heard what Gold said about it before.  The Underworld is no joke.”

“I’m not laughing,” Henry insisted.  “I _know_ it will be dangerous!  I know what I’m getting myself into.”

Suddenly he took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the floor.  “I can’t just stay here with the babies.  I…mom, you’re not the only one who cares about Killian.  He was…he cared about me; really cared.  He treated me like someone who mattered.  He, you know, asked for my advice and stuff and he gave me advice when I needed it.  All that Operation Light Swan stuff?  We…we were gonna be a family, all three of us.  I just…I _need_ to go help find him.”

Emma stepped forward and wrapped her son in her arms, her eyes once more filling with tears.  “I know kid; I know.  And he wanted you as part of our family too.  He loved you.”

Henry stepped back.  “So let me come too!”

Emma shared a look with Regina.  After a moment Regina shrugged.  “He has a point.  Try as I might I’ve never managed to stop him when he has his mind made up.”

“He’ll probably be safer with us than on his own,” David offered.

Emma looked closely at her son once more, and finally nodded.  “Alright kid.  Get yourself ready.  We leave for the Underworld at nightfall.”

“Forgive me if I’m…um…missing the obvious,” Robin said, stepping forward, “but how does one _get_ to the Underworld.”

“Same way Hook brought the Dark Ones back,” Emma answered.  “We use Gold’s blood to open a portal.

Regina scoffed.  “After what he just did, you’re going to trust him to keep his word.”

Emma pursed her lips, anger riding to the surface once more.  “Yeah, he’ll keep his word.  Unless he wants his wife to find out just what kind of man he is, he’ll help us.”

“And then what?” Regina persisted.  “You think he’ll just come with us?  Help us out of the kindness of his heart?  Just how long do you think it’ll take before he decides to screw us over again.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Emma said in a hard voice.  “What he does when he gets there is his business.  All I care about is getting there.”

Regina nodded.  “Okay.  Looks like we’re off to rescue the pirate.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--As far as the Hades backstory is concerned, my inspiration was a bit of a mashup of all kinds of things.  Hades and his story is mostly based off Disney’s Hercules, but there are elements of Greek mythology thrown in as well as references to Dante’s Inferno.  I wonder if I should be concerned that I’m having so much fun with hell. Lol._

_\--Another nice healthy dose of angst with the Charmings dealing with things in the second scene.  Don’t worry!  Angst won’t be the rule.  Now that the gang’s heading down to the Underworld, they’ll be far too busy trying to save Killian (and not, you know, get killed or something) to dwell on their grief._

_\--The final scene was obviously heavily inspired by what happened in 5x11.  (In fact a nice little portion of the dialogue was taken directly from that scene in the Charmings’ flat.)  I also incorporated elements from the script of the deleted scene that Adam released on Twitter not long after 5x11 aired.  Other than that, I just kind of filled in the cracks._

_\--I teased a scene with Rumple saying goodbye to Belle, but I decided to scrap that.  This chapter was already getting long, and do we really need to see another scene where Rumple lies to Belle again about how he’s a hero now and wants to go rescue Killian out of the kindness of his heart?_

_\--Up next: Probably a far shorter chapter.  In the past, Hades tries to go back to Mount Olympus and challenge Zeus.  That, of course, doesn’t go so well for him.  He then meets his trusted sidekicks, Pain and Panic.  In the present, Killian (or should we say Colin now?) wakes up.  We get a glimpse of what his underworld life is like._


	3. Chapter 3

_The Underworld, long, long ago_

“Incoming!” Came the insistent voice through the mansion’s speaker system.

Hades looked longingly at the feast spread out before him in his formal dining room.  After a moment, he set his fork aside, sighed, and got to his feet.

Human’s always picked the most inconvenient times to die.  No consideration for others.  None at all.

Fishing his cell phone from his robes he scrolled through his contacts until he came across the photo of the grim reaper, huge, skeletal smile nearly covered with his voluminous hooded robe.  “Talk to me, who’ve we got now?”

“Good evening sir,” the reaper said in a solemn voice.  “I’ve got two souls set within your dungeon and prepared for their judgement.  I’d suggest you prepare the lever for hell; to look at them, I’ve significant doubts that they ever did a good deed in their lives.”

“Well, this oughta be fun,” Hades said.  “The damned are always far more entertaining than the choir boys.”

“Quite so, sir,” the reaper agreed.

Hades snapped his fingers and appeared with a flourish in the basement where he kept the deceased waiting for judgement.  Two old men with shifty eyes and nervous expressions jumped and shouted at his appearance.

Pasting on a far-from-reassuring grin, Hades stuck out his hand.  “How ya doing?  My name’s Hades.”

“Don’t hurt us! Don’t hurt us!” The one on the left said, flinching away as thought Hades’ hand was a loaded gun.

Hades rolled his eyes.  These guys weren’t going to be as much fun as he’d hoped.  Craven cowards never were.  “Of _course_ I’m not going to hurt you.   You’re _dead_.  Not much more damage I could do anyway.”

“We’re _what_?” the one on the right yelped.

“Dead,” Hades said slowly, deliberately enunciating every syllable.  “You know, dead, deceased, departed, passed away, kicked the bucket, bought the farm.  Dead.”

“Noooo….” the guys lamented in unison.  It took Hades a good five minutes to calm them down enough to show them their life story.  And when they were indeed sentenced to hell (because, sheesh, these jackals committed just about every sin in the book), well, there was no getting a word in edgewise.

But as the poor unfortunate souls continued to beg and plead and bargain, suddenly it occurred to Hades that these pathetic excuses for men could be quite useful.  What archvillain didn’t have his sycophantic sidekicks?  He’d spent the last four months as ruler of the Underworld doing _everything_.  All the work fell to him.  It just wasn’t right.  He was a _god_ for Cronus’s sake!  He deserved a couple of slaves…er…employees to lighten his load.

And then there were the other perks of having a couple of right-hand men around to take care of his dirty work.  Right-hand men, for example that weren’t categorically barred from ever entering Mount Olympus again.

Hades felt his hair-fire spike and his blood boil at the very thought.  As it happened, one month after taking the throne of the Underworld, Hades had decided he wasn’t going to take it anymore.  If Zeus thought he could just waltz away with Hades’ birthright, he had another thing coming. 

Hades had marched up to Mount Olympus with a posse of his most brawny devils and decided to take a stand. 

It had failed spectacularly.  Beyond spectacularly.  Epically.

“Hades!” Zeus had said with a big grin and outstretched arms when they first arrived.  “Nice you could come for a visit.  Come on; I’ll show you what I’ve done with the place!”

Hades didn’t stand on ceremony; just immediately went for the attack.  It had taken Zeus all of two minute to realize this wasn’t in fact a social call, and when that happened…well, his stupid little brother pulled out his medallion, pointed it in their direction, and then let the lightning bolts fly.  They’d been lucky they’d made it out of there without being charred to a crisp.

As Hades’ best devils fled, he turned back, in time to see his brother creating a protection spell with his lightning bolt medallion, and he _knew_ what that meant.  Hades was no longer welcome in his brother’s house.

Jeez, you lead one tiny armed rebellion, and suddenly you’re the devil.

The fact was, though, _he_ might not be able to return to Mount Olympus—nor could his demons—but these new condemned souls….well they were an unknown quantity.  If they were able to employ a little stealth, they might just find themselves incredibly useful.

Hades raised a hand in the air, calling for quiet.  When the distraught souls absolutely refused to stop their sniveling, he shouted, letting his hair shoot up and his eyes flash.  It shocked them enough they finally shut up.

“Now, gentlemen,” Hades said, returning to his suave smile.  “I think I may have come up with a solution that’ll be beneficial to all of us.”

“What’s that, Your Evilness?”

“Simply this:  you agree to be my obedient servants for all of eternity and I don’t toss your asses in hell like you deserve.”

Both men fell prostrate, vowing eternal obedience.

“Good, good,” Hades said.  “First order of business I need something to call you.  You…the one who was _so_ afraid of what I might do to you.  You’ll be called pain.  And you?  The guy freaking out about everything?  You’re panic.  Welcome to the Underworld!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_The Underworld, present day_

_“You gave up your ship for me?”_

_He felt his heartrate quicken.  He hadn’t wanted to tell her this; hadn’t wanted to make her feel obligated to him.  He’d never wanted to make her feel she owed him anything.  He’d done what he’d done for her, all for her.  He’d expected nothing in return.  He’d done it because he loved her with every fiber of his being and he couldn’t_ stand _being parted from her for another moment._

_No, he’d never wanted to tell her, but when his sweet Swan asked him directly, her eyes exuding such awe and amazement, he was powerless to deny her anything._

_“Aye,” he said simply, nodding his head slightly in emphasis._

_It took her a moment to process the information, a moment of shock and disbelief, and it made his heart ache.  This woman, this amazing bloody_ perfect _woman was so used to pain and rejection, so used to people using her and throwing her away, that she couldn’t believe it when someone offered her something merely for her own sake._

_Finally it sunk in, finally she must have read the sincerity and aching love in his eyes.  Ever so slowly, she leaned in, and as her lips touched his, he know he’d never in his life find another home but that within this woman’s arms.  This was so utterly right.  So precious, he’d guard it with his life._

_In Neverland their kiss had been all passion, all urgent need.  This…this was different.  This was soft and gentle.  Utter bliss.  As he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, he reached up and ran his hand through her silken hair._

_If ever there was such a thing as heaven for this old, formerly-villainous pirate, it was within the circle of this woman’s arms._

The alarm clock blared, and Colin jumped, hitting the off button with rather more force than was strictly necessary.  He lay still for another moment, closing his eyes, trying to reclaim the feeling of the dream, trying to see the dream woman once more.

But like mist that burns away with the morning sun, she was gone.

Colin sighed, stepped from the bed and gathered up a change of clothing for the day.

The dream had felt so _real_.  Almost like a…like a memory rather than a dream.  He could still feel the press of the dream woman’s lips to his.  He could smell her soft vanilla scent.  He felt the cool, autumn breeze—so different from now, from reality where it was already promising to be a stifling summer day.

As Colin stepped into the shower and let the tepid water wash over him, he closed his eyes, trying to capture the woman again.  He knew she had lovely long blonde hair.  He knew she was beautiful.  But any other details…it was all a blur, nothing but a half-forgotten dream.

He dreamt of her often, this mysterious and beautiful blonde.  Some nights they were happy dreams, like the one he had this morning.  Sometimes they were painful.  Sometimes she walked away from him, building her walls high against him.

All he knew was that in every one of his dreams, he loved her.  Desperately, passionately, with his entire being, he loved her.  There was nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.

Quite pathetic, that, Colin thought as he stepped from the shower, briskly toweled off, and then dressed for the day in his normal khakis, plaid button down and tweed jacket.  (A bit warm for the time of year, he supposed, but this attire always made him feel professorial.  Somehow it helped when the words simply wouldn’t flow.)

What manner of man fell in love with a woman who was merely a figment of his imagination?  One who’d gone rather off the deep end, he’d wager.

Colin stepped into his neat, orderly kitchen, and set the kettle on the stove, rifling through his collection of teas.  Finally settling on one, he set the bag in his favorite mug and waited for the water to boil.

Perhaps meeting an _actual_ woman, finding _real_ love would help him to move past this quite imaginary blonde of his dreams.  Problem was, in order to meet a real woman, Colin would have to leave his house.

The thought filled him with panic.  He couldn’t leave the house, he simply _couldn’t_.  Why?  He didn’t know; it was just an absolute, unyielding feeling deep within himself.  If he ever left the peace and shelter of his home something _terrible_ would happen.

Colin fixed himself a simple breakfast.  Nothing more than a couple of slices of toast with jam, but it would do him nicely until it was time for his noon repast.  When his tea was steeped to perfection, he discarded the bag, and then set down to breakfast.

He couldn’t shake the melancholy that fell over him like a cloak this morning.  Like he was _missing_ something (or someone).  Like he’d lost something precious. 

He did up his few dishes, and then headed for the sitting room, for the spyglass he’d set up there on a stand.  If there was one thing that never ceased to calm him, it was the sea.  The gentle waves lapping upon the shore, the salt breezes, the promise of sailing and adventure.  He had little idea why he’d feel so strongly about the ocean.  He hadn’t, after all, left his home since…well, he couldn’t rightly remember the last time he left the house.

Odd.  He couldn’t remember much of anything before today.  Like his missing hand, for example.  One would think he would remember an injury so traumatic as the severing of a limb.  Perhaps it wasn’t an injury at all; perhaps he was missing his left hand from birth?  He simply didn’t know.

But that was neither here nor there.  If he was to complete his allotted number of words for the day, he needed to put troubling musings about lost limbs and elusive blonde beauties aside and set to work on his novel.

Settling into his office with his second cup of Earl Gray in hand, he fired up the computer, reread the last few paragraphs he’d written yesterday, and started in to work.

_I climbed steadily for a quarter of an hour feeling the pleasant burn of exertion in my muscles.  The beanstalk was tall, its leafy, gnarled surface reaching above the clouds.  I looked to my left, saw the blonde beauty in her strange attire more than keeping pace with me._

_She looked focused, determined, guarded, her walls built as tall as this beanstalk.  I saw the pain, the woundedness beneath the prickly exterior, and when I looked at her, I saw a kindred spirit.  This woman was quickly becoming more than a mere method of transport to the Land Without Magic.  She fascinated me.  I wished to know her; I wished to take down her walls brick by brick; I wished to reassure her that lost ones need not remain lost forever._

_But that level of emotion, vulnerability had never served me well.  I settled back into my comfortable flirtatious façade as easily as I slipped my hook into its brace._

_“First beanstalk? Well, you never forget your first,” I drawled.  “You know, most men would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge.”_

_She rolled her eyes.  “I’m concentrating.”_

_“No, you’re afraid,” I continued, watching as she navigated her way up the beanstalk.  “Afraid to talk, afraid to reveal yourself, to_ trust _me.  Things would be a lot smoother if you do.”_

_“You should be used to people not trusting you.”_

_Her words stung, I couldn’t deny it, but I understood her; I_ felt _her on a deeper level than she likely could comprehend.  This woman, this beautiful broken woman was not yet ready for sincerity, so I called upon my dashing rapscallion charm._

_“Ah, the ‘pirate’ thing,” I said, continuing my climb.  “Well, I don’t need you to share.  You’re something of an open book.”_

_“Am I?” she asked, skepticism liberally lacing her voice._

_“Quite,” I answered.  “Let’s see.  You volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated.  You need to get back to a child.”_

_“That’s not perception; that’s eves dropping.”_

_I looked straight into her wounded green eyes.  “You don’t want to abandon him the way you were abandoned.”_

_“Was I?”_

_“Like I said.  Open book.”_

_She looked closely at me for a moment.  “How would you know that?”_

_How indeed.  If only this woman, this Emma Swan had any idea of my childhood, my upbringing.  I knew far better than she could possibly imagine.  Finally I answered.  “I spent many years in Neverland, home of the lost boys, and they all share the same look in their eyes; the look you get when you’ve been left alone.”_

_That observation hit home.  She glanced aside but not before I saw the hurt blooming on her face.  “Yeah, well, my world ain’t Neverland.”_

_“But an orphan’s an orphan.”_

_She began climbing in earnest again.  I scrambled to keep up before probing once more.  “Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn’t it? Have you ever even_ been _in love?”_

_She was silent for a beat too long and I wondered if she’d answer.  Finally she turned to me.  “No.  I have never been in love.”_

Colin wrote steadily for hours.  He wrote of his hero’s adventures upon the beanstalk.  Of his blonde lass finding a compass and leaving him behind.  Of feeling so betrayed he teamed up once again with a nasty witch.  The words flowed effortlessly from his fingers, almost as though he wasn’t inventing the story at all; almost as though he were merely dictating fact; something that had already happened.

He was amazed to look up some several hours later to see the sun beginning to sink below the horizon.  Of all the books he’d ever written, this one felt the most _real_ the most _personal_.  It was with something like regret that he saved his draft for the day and logged off of his computer.

Just like the dream this morning, there was something about this story he was weaving.  Something telling him it was somehow more real than anything he experienced in his lonely solitary life.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hades heard a knock at his study door and sighed.  His servants knew full well not to disturb him here except in the direst of circumstances.  It was his refuge, his place to brood, his place to get away from crying, pleading, _annoying_ dead people.

“This better be important,” Hades growled, “or I’m going to make your death look like a picnic.”

The door slowly, hesitantly opened, and Pain and Panic shuffled their way in.  For long moments, they just stood there, wringing their long, bony hands, and looking miserable.

“Well?” Hades shouted, his hair-fire erupting.

Panic stepped hesitantly forward.  “It’s…it’s about the new guy, Colin Delamer.”

Hades felt a cold chill run over his body.  “What about him?”

“Well,” Pain said, “he’s writing a book.”

Hades rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, see, here’s the thing.  He’s an _author_.  Writing books is kind of their job description.”

“But the problem is…” Panic said, “the problem is that the book he’s writing…well, it’s about _her_.”

“Which _her_ are we talking about?”

“Emma Swan, his true love,” Pain said.

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty good,” Panic said.  “The guy’s really got a way with words.  And the story…romance, excitement, beanstalks and giants and…”

“Quiet!” Hades exploded, yelling loud enough the figurines on his desk start to rattle.

Pain and Panic cowered, covering their heads with their hands.  Hades barely noticed.  This was bad.  This was _really_ bad.  “Are you telling me he _remembers_?”

“Not exactly,” Pain said.  “He thinks it’s a dream or imagination or something.”

Hades breathed a sigh of relief.  That wasn’t _so_ bad, he supposed.

Pain stepped forward once more.  “Um…there’s more.”

“Okay…what’s up?”

“The woman?  Emma Swan?  She…she refuses to accept his death.”

Hades shrugged.  “Doesn’t have much choice, does she?”

“Actually…” Panic said.  “She’s…kind of found a way to open a portal to the Underworld.  Has plans to find her Killian and bring him back to the land of the living.”

This time Hades yelled so loudly that his servants fled from the room like all the demons of hell were after them.

This was…this was a catastrophe!  All his hard work!  All his devilish machinations.  It was about to go up in fire and brimstone.

Hades shuffled through the papers on his desk until he found the hated one he was looking for.  The prophecy.  The prophecy laying out his defeat.  He looked for the phrase he most dreaded.  _True love strong enough to transcend death._

Hades took a couple of deep breaths.  Okay, this looked bad.  This looked really bad.  But all was not lost yet.  Even if this Emma Swan, this “Storybrooke Savior” made it down here, she still had to find a way to free Killian, and Hades had never lost a soul yet. 

And then there was the rest of the prophecy, the bit about Hercules.  Even if the pesky humans managed to escape with the strength of their even peskier “true love”, Hercules still had to show up and fight.  Hades hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his nephew yet.

He was in the clear.  For the time being, he was still completely in the clear.

 

_Notes:_

_\--Sorry this particular update took longer than normal!  It’s been a busy…and difficult few days._

_\--This chapter was a bit shorter than the others, but I needed one more chapter to set the stage before the real action of the story begins.  I wanted to give a little glimpse into what Killian’s (well,_ Colin’s _) life is like in the underworld.  Clearly he isn’t quite aware of what’s really going on.  In the next chapter you’ll find out exactly why._

_\--Up next: Hades sets up the Underworld exactly how_ he _wants it.  In the present, Emma and company make it to the Underworld, and start their search for Killian._


	4. Chapter 4

_Underworld, long, long ago_

“You did _WHAT_?”  Hades thundered at his two most incompetent sycophants.  “How the _hell_ did you manage to set Cerberus loose off his chain?  Haven’t you learned _anything_ in the six months you’ve been here?

“Well…” Pain said, cowering, “it wasn’t _really_ our fault.  It was the balrog’s fault…if he hadn’t suddenly come back from Middle Earth and started breathing fire at everyone….”

Hades rubbed at his temples.  Why him?  What did he ever do to deserve this.  “What was the balrog doing there?  You know full well he’s not allowed back in hell without a full demon squadron guarding him after his last visit threw all of hell into chaos.  Charon should know better than to let him past.”

“That’s the thing…” Panic said, “we might, possibly have accidentally pushed Charon into the pool of Lethe and, you know, wiped his memories.”

“WHAT!!!????  I’m down a ferryman now too?”

“Well, there are several demons trying to un-memory charm him as we speak,” Pain said.  “Should be good as new in, oh a month or so.”

“Do you have _any_ idea how many souls will end up on the far shore awaiting transport in that amount of time?” Hades thundered, “ The Trojans and the Achaeans are at war again, and my sources say something about a horse that might lead to countless casualties.  Do you have _any_ idea how much of a headache it will be to deal with countless bad-tempered dead people who can’t even be ferried over to their doom?  Do you?”

“We know!” Pan and Panic lamented together, falling on the ground before him.  “We failed.”

“Damn straight, you failed.  I have half a mind to throw you right back in hell where you belong!  What were you even _doing_ down there?”

“Well,” Pain said, “The cook was talking about how much you like the fire whiskey from the 2nd ring of hell—you know the gluttony level?  We thought we’d, you know give you a present for our six month anniversary here in the Underworld.  Wanted to do something nice to make you happy.”

Hades rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, good job with that.”

“We are worms!” Panic lamented, “less than worms.  We are the dirt that runs through a worm’s digestive tract.  Don’t send us back there!  Please!”

Hades sighed loudly.  “Just…just go, and next time you want to do something nice for me? Just save me the trouble and torture yourselves instead.”

No sooner had the two idiots removed themselves from his presence before the butler was once again tapping on his study door.

“What now?”

The tall, dour man opened the door and stepped inside.  “Hermes to see you, sir.  It would seem he has a message from your brother.”

Really, there were some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.  He could be in his bed dreaming about ultimate victory and Mount Olympus and his brother’s head on a spike at the gate and all manner of wonderful things, but no.  He had to get up and actually _read_ his daily briefings.  Couldn’t one day, just _one day_ go by without all the fires of hell erupting around him?

“Here’s the thing, I don’t _want_ a message from my brother,” Hades said with a wave of his hand.  “Just go tell Hermes to turn himself and his stupid feathered sandals back around, and he can shove his message up his…”

“Sir,” the butler interrupted.  “The god is most insistent.  He has orders to badger you—and by extension me—until you’ve actually read the missive and acknowledged its receipt.”

Figures.  That was the kind of annoying stunt his stupid little brother would pull.  Zeus had the Mount Olympus gods wrapped around his little finger too; no way anyone would succeed in talking Hermes out of his mission.

“Fine,” Hades said on a defeated sigh, “show him in.”

A moment later, the god of commerce himself appeared with his stupid winged hat and winged sandals and staff and everything.  “Greetings, Hades.  I trust all is well in the Underworld?”

“Yeah, just peachy,” Hades drawled.  “We’re having a hell of a day down here.  What’ve you got for me?”

Hermes pulled a folded and sealed piece of parchment from his belt and extended it before him.  Hades broke the seal and perused the missive, temper rising with every passing word.

_Hades,_

_Long time no see, brother!  Of course that’s kind of what happens when you try to lead an armed rebellion and take over your brother’s kingdom.  Just wanted to tell you the news.  You remember Hera?  The most popular goddess in our class at deity school?  Yeah, well guess what?  She just became Mrs. Zeus!  That’s right.  We got hitched one month ago today.  Took a nice long honeymoon to Elysium; stopped by and saw dad while we were there.  He’s doing well.  Says to say hi.  He of course finds you and your traitorous ways a major disappointment, but what are you going to do?_

_Anyway, wish you could have been there for the wedding, but Hera wanted the ceremony to be perfect.  You know how brides are!  She was afraid you’d decide the wedding was the perfect opportunity to set Operation Take Over Your Brother’s Lawfully Obtained Throne 2.0. into motion._

_Hope things are nice and hellish where you are!_

_Your younger brother,_

_Hades (god of all Mount Olympus and Elysium)_

_P.S. If you feel like sending a gift, how about a cradle?  The missus and I plan to start a family a.s.a.p._

Hades crumpled the parchment in one hand and then threw it into the fire.  Zeus got married?  _Married!?_   This was a disaster!  Looking up, he noticed Hermes still standing there, broad smile on his obnoxious face.

“Wonderful news isn’t it?” Hermes said.  “It was a match made in heaven.  Ha!  Get it?  A match made in _heaven_.”

Hades raised an eyebrow.  “Yeah, I caught your pathetic attempt at wit.  Seriously, though?  Leave the humor to the professionals.”

The smile slid from Hermes face.  “I thought it was funny.”

“Yeah, hilarious.”

“At any rate, have you any message for me to return to your brother?”

Hades thought for a moment and then grinned nastily.  “Go tell my sainted brother I hope he steps on a whole crate full of push pins.”

After sputtering for a moment in indignation, Hermes _finally_ left.

Hades felt his temper rising higher and higher.  His hair-flame was so high now it nearly reached the ceiling.  His brother was _married_?  Could he _possibly_ have gotten a worse piece of news?  He’d finally kind of settled into his afterlife.  True, the Underworld and hell were no picnics, but still it could be worse.  Maybe he couldn’t take Mount Olympus back by force, but there was always the waiting game.  If Zeus continued on with no wife and no progeny, it would be a simple thing.  Wait until his brother retired and then inherit the whole place for himself.

But now Zeus threw a lightning bolt in all his well-laid plans.  With a wife—and even worse plans to start a family right away—Hades’ hopes had as much hopes of being realized as did Charon’s hopes of topping the afterlife’s list of Handsomest Undead Men (and if you ever looked at the guy…yeah, you knew that was a dream that would _never_ be realized).

There really were some days a god wished he could just forget about and do over—and this day topped the list.  Hades slumped into his easy chair, sour scowl firmly affixed.  He wanted nothing more than to wallow in his newest defeat for the rest of the day, but of course (because what else did he expect), he’d only just begun to get into his sulking groove when there was _another_ knock at the door.

“Pardon, sir,” the butler said, stepping in again, “but I thought you should know.  The new gardener, Dan?  He’s scheduled to pass on in about half an hour.”

“Dan?  But he just got here little more than a month ago!” Hades said, sitting up. “How’s that possible?”

“It seems his unfinished business was completed in quite the timely fashion,” the butler said.  “As you know, he passed rather unexpectedly; was quite concerned for the welfare of his wife and many young children.”

“Yeah?  And?”

“Well it would seem he and his family were well loved in the community,” the butler said.  “Many, many many friends and family members have stepped up to ensure the widow and children are well provided for in any way necessary.  Just today, the widow gave birth to a healthy baby boy and named him after his deceased father.  It would seem a good amount of healing has begun to take place.”

“Well good for them,” Hades drawled sarcastically.  “Meanwhile I lose the best gardener we’ve had around here for years.  Isn’t that all just great?”

“Nothing for it, sir.  This is, after all a way-station.  Souls aren’t meant to reside here forever.”

“Well maybe that’s not enough for me!” Hades thundered.  “Turn around around here is ridiculous!  Just get a new resident all settled in and contributing to society and _poof_ , it’s time for them to move on!  You know what?  I’m sick of it!  I’m a god too, you know.  Zeus isn’t the only deity around!  I shouldn’t be bound to my dad’s ridiculous rules.  I’m going to refashion this place in _my_ image.”

Pain and Panic may have caused a world of headaches down in hell today, but their antics actually gave him an idea.  A beautiful, devious idea.  There was that intriguing new curse Chernabog was guarding.  Maybe….maybe if he spiced it up a bit with Lethe water…add a pinch of amnesia…yeah, that would be just about perfect.

At long last this day from hell was finally starting to look up.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Storybrooke, present day_

Emma stepped up to the lake surrounded by her family.  This was it.  They were about to set off on the most dangerous rescue mission of any of their lives.  A bright full moon glared off the lake, setting the low-lying fog surrounding them in sharp contrast.  It was by far the creepiest, the eeriest scenario Emma had ever envisioned being in.  She was about to go to _hell_   (or…the Underworld, whatever the difference was).

She didn’t feel a moment of hesitation.

Two years before, she’d found herself in a similar, seemingly hopeless situation.  Greg and Tamara had kidnapped Henry and taken him through a portal to who knew where for who knew what terrible purpose.  Though all hope looked lost, Emma had been determined.  It didn’t matter that she didn’t even know what realm her son had been taken to.  It didn’t matter that she had no known way to open a portal.

All that mattered was that her son, her familial true love needed her help and there was nothing, _nothing_ she wouldn’t do to get to him.  In the end she had.  With the help of these people assembled with her now, she _had_ gotten her son back.

Could she do any less for her other true love?  Could she do anything less for the man who had proven time and time and time again that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her?  That there’s nothing he wouldn’t give up for her?  That he would always find her, always come for her no matter what time, place or realm she found herself in?

Aside from Henry, he was the very best and most important thing in her life, and no matter what she had to do, she _would_ get him back.

Footsteps sounded on the dewy grass behind them, and Emma turned to look at the last, grim member of their rescue party.  _Gold_.  The very sight of him disgusted her and made her blood start to boil once more.  Never had she been able to identify with Killian more.  She could fully and completely understand the man she loved going on a centuries-long quest to get revenge on this…this…she couldn’t even come up with a strong enough insult.  No curse word in the dictionary (or out of it) was strong enough.

Of course, it wasn’t the heroic response, but it was _human_.  Emma felt a renewed surge of pride in Killian that even under the very worst of circumstances he was able to overcome his need for revenge.  He was able to let it go once and for all.

Emma took a deep breath, willing the anger to recede.  For the time being they _needed_ Gold, as much as the fact may gall her.  They _needed_ him to open the portal.  After that…well, he could just stay in hell for all she cared.

“Shall we proceed, Miss Swan?” he asked with a sneer.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said through gritted teeth.

Rumple dragged his dagger across his palm, and several drops of rich, red blood welled up.  Clenching his fist, he let the drops fall to the lake and disappear among the waters.

They waited for a beat of time.  Then another.  All remained still and quiet, undisturbed. 

Just as Emma began to fear they’d failed, a disturbance started up in the very center of the lake.  It grew larger and larger, until it formed a mighty whirlpool, which duly disgorged a large, flat barge manned by a figure in a large hood that completely hid his (her? its?) features.  A single lantern hung from the bow, its flickering light only heightening the sepulchral feel of the scene.

“Well, looks like this is it,” Emma said grimly.  “Last chance to turn back.”

David stepped up and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.  A moment later Mary Margaret threaded her arm through Emma’s.

“We’re with you to the end, honey,” Mary Margaret said in a strong, clear, no-nonsense voice.  “Killian was family, and we never give up on our family.”

Emma threw her mother a soft smile, too overcome with gratitude to fully speak it.  After one last deep breath, she began to walk forward, focusing on the lake water seeping through her boots and plastering her jeans to her legs, rather than the rather terrifying hell-ferryman before them.

She reached up and grabbed onto Killian’s ring once more.  “Hook, I will find you.  I will always find you.”

Emma felt her father squeeze her shoulder, obviously affected at hearing what was basically his tagline coming from her lips.

It took several moments—wading through chest-deep _cold_ water near the end of a Maine fall was quite the undertaking—but finally all seven of them were settled in and seated on the ferryman’s barge.

The robed figure didn’t speak or even acknowledge them but merely seemed to watch them intently, if the motion of his hooded head was any indication.  When it was clear that all the passengers had indeed boarded, the figure plunged his staff into the lake, and the vessel shot forward with surprising speed.  Emma grabbed Henry with one hand, and the ship with her other, thinking it would be just her luck to fall out of the damn thing before they made it to their destination.  She’d probably end up in some weird purgatory for all of eternity.

As it happened, she need not have worried.  Apparently once you’d boarded Charon’s ferry, there was no getting off until he gave you leave.  Rumple tried to dive off at the last moment, but it was as though he reached a solid barrier; he bounced against the open air surrounding them, and then landed back in the ferry with a thud.

Emma closed her eyes and ducked her head as they entered the vortex that would take them to their destination.  It was loud and wet, the water whipping around them with a roar.  It reminded Emma of nothing so much as the trip to Neverland.

Only that time she’d had Killian by her side. 

After what felt like hours, the ferry finally came to a stop, and Emma became aware that they’d made it.

She opened her eyes and gasped.  “What the hell?”

She’d prepared herself for all kinds of things—fire, brimstone, red devils with horns and pitchforks, rivers of molten lava, anguished souls screaming in agony.

What she hadn’t prepared for was this.  This place looked…normal.  They’d washed up on a grassy shore, a sweltering summer sun shone down on a well-maintained graveyard on the left and a town on the right.

A town that looked eerily like Storybrooke.  What was going on here?  Where _were_ they.

Emma clearly wasn’t the only one with questions.  “Where the hell have you _taken_ us?” Regina demanded, turning toward Gold.

He giggled, the sound reminiscent of the sparkly imp she and Killian had met in their time travel adventure.  “Where else, Dearie?  The Underworld.”

“You’re telling me the Underworld looks just like _Storybrooke_?” David thundered, hands on hips.

“Not ‘just like’,” Rumple said, fingers making quote marks around the phrase.  “There are differences.  Look closely.”

Indeed, as Emma looked around once more, she realized that they’d landed in Storybrooke…but _not_ Storybrooke—almost like a distorted mirror image of Storybrooke.  Everything was just the tiniest bit _off_.  Burnt-out hulls of cars lined the street, the library’s tower lay crashed on the street, graffiti littered every building.  Even the light from the sun wasn’t quite right.  It was like…like it was being filtered through a brownish filter or something.  The heat it gave off wasn’t warm and comforting, but somehow oppressive.  The air smelled faintly of sulfur and felt stifling, like one would choke if they breathed in too deeply.

There was not another person to be found…anywhere.

Emma felt a prickle of fear run down her spine.  Somehow, this reality that was just slightly _wrong_ felt more frightening than would the fire and brimstone she’d imagine.

Clearly she wasn’t the only one feeling it.  Henry sidled up to her and clasped her hand.  Robin cursed softly under his breath.  Snow pulled out her bow and fitted it with an arrow.

“This place is eerie,” Regina said through clenched teeth.  “Let’s find your pirate and get the hell out of here.”

Rumple giggled again, and it took all Emma’s power not to conjure a fireball and toss it at the son of a bitch’s head.  “Do you really think it will be that easy?  You just waltz in, find your pirate, split the savior’s heart and waltz back out?”

David stepped in.  “None of this is going to be easy,” he said in a grim voice, his body clearly tightly coiled and ready for a fight.  “None of us thought any different.  You’re the only one who’s been here before.  I think it’s about time you start talking.  How do we find Killian?  What kind of traps will we be walking into.  You better start talking, or so help me…”

“So help you what?” Rumple sneered.  “You’ll charm me to death?  Give me a strongly worded lecture on hope and family?  In case you didn’t notice, I’m the Dark One again.  I have more power than you could hope to have in fifty lifetimes.”

David looked ready to step in and punch the grin off Rumple’s face, but Henry intervened.  “Please, Gramps!  We…we need to get Killian back.”

Rumple continued sneering at David for another moment, and then his face softened.   “It appears my grandson is the only one among you with any manners at all.  Since he’s asked so nicely, I’ll impart my knowledge to you.  Did it occur to you that there may be a reason the Underworld looks _just_ like Storybrooke.”

He looked around expectantly for a moment, but when no one spoke, he continued.  “Storybrooke was created by a curse.  A dark curse.  A dark curse, as it happened that was guarded by a hell-beast, the Chernabog.  A hell-beast who happens to reside in the very bowels of hell.”

“So you’re telling us,” Mary Margaret said, stepping forward, “that the Underworld is…under a dark curse?”

Rumple giggled again.  “Precisely.  The residents are living through a kind of Purgatory; each day the same as the one before.  Nothing ever changing.  Nothing ever improving.  As an added bonus, Hades added water from the lake Lethe to give it a memory loss component.”

“Wait…” Regina said, raising her hand.  “I was under the impression that the Underworld is for those souls who have unfinished business to work through.  If they can’t even remember who they are, let alone what their business was….how are they supposed to ever pass on?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Rumple said with a nasty grin.  “Those souls without unfinished business are sent directly to Elysium or hell; there’s nothing Hades can do to stop that.  Those souls with unfinished business, however, will be essentially trapped in Purgatory for all eternity; perfect slaves for Hades, seeing to his every whim.”

As Rumple continued talking about the particulars about the Underworld Hades created, Emma tuned out.  Suddenly the magnitude of the problem facing them became clear to her.

“So what you’re telling us,” Emma said, cutting Rumple off mid-sentence, “is that not only do we not know _where_ Killian is; we don’t even know _who_ he is?  You’re telling me that even if we find him, he won’t know us.  He won’t…he won’t remember he loves me?”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she felt her mother step up to her and wrap an arm around her waist.

“Well that all depends,” Rumple answered.

“Depends on what?” David said in a tight voice.

“On what kind of a man your pirate really was,” Rumple drawled.  “Only the heroes lose their memories here.  Hades has worked the system so that his fellow villains remember everything.  He’s placed them in positions of power and prestige as a bribe to get them to keep his perfect little kingdom in order.  It’s worked quite well for him.  The villains, of course, have no motivation to finish their business as their ultimate destiny is hell.  So the question is, what was _Hook—_ hero or villain?”

Emma rushed him then, hands outstretched, ready to choke him with her bare hands.  Rumple stopped her with his magic before she could make contact.  “How _dare_ you even suggest he’s a villain.  Killian is one of the strongest, bravest most heroic men I’ve ever met.  After everything you’ve done to him, you even _dare_ to suggest…”

“Now, now, Miss Swan,” he drawled, infuriating grin in place.  “I merely asked a question.  If it is as you say—your pirate is a hero—there’s no way to tell where—or who—he is.”

Suddenly the fight left Emma, the magnitude of their task seeming to weigh down on her like a five hundred pound weight on her shoulders.  Tears filled her eyes, and without a word, she turned and walked toward the graveyard, not knowing where she was going, not knowing what she planned to do, just knowing she needed a moment.

But when she looked up and found herself face to face with a gravestone inscribed with the name “Killian Jones”, she crumpled, dropping to her knees and letting the tears flow once more.

A moment later, she felt strong arms surrounding her.  Her father held her from behind, while her son stood before her with sympathetic eyes.  But there was something else in those brown eyes of his besides sympathy.

There was hope.

“It’s okay, mom,” he said with conviction.  “This might be a more difficult adventure than we first thought, but we’ll find him!  We’ll find him and we’ll save him.”

Emma stepped out of her father’s embrace, and wrapped her son in her arms.  “Love your optimism, kid.”

“It’s not just optimism,” he said, hugging her back.  “You guys have true love, and true love conquers all!”

Emma felt a pang.  “Maybe we had true love before he died, but kid…he doesn’t even remember me now!  How am I supposed to split my heart with him—a…procedure that only works for the truest of all true loves?”

“Simple,” Henry said with a shrug and a crooked smile.  “You make him fall in love with you again.  Don’t forget, I saw you in the weird story book the author made.  Even when he’s…totally different from who he really is, he still falls in love with you.  You’re kindred spirits; no matter the time or place, you’ll _always_ fall in love.”

His optimism was contagious, and slowly, but surely Emma felt her confidence returning.  This was a fight they _would_ win.  She ruffled Henry’s hair, smiling down at him.  “What would I do without you?”

“Who knows?” he said with a mischievous grin.  “See?  I told you you needed me on this trip.”

“Yeah, I do.  I really do.”

“You know, mom,” Henry said after another hug, “I was thinking.  We need a name for this mission.”

She smiled, feeling irrationally buoyed by his statement.  Henry’s “operations” _always_ succeeded.  “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking…” he said, “what about ‘Operation Phoenix’.  You know, because Phoenixes are supposed to be able to rise from the dead.”

Emma’s smile widened.  “Kid, I think that’s perfect!”

After a moment, the three of them returned to the group.  “Alright,” Emma said, “so what do we do?  Where do we start this search.”

“I suggest you find shelter for the time being, a base of operations, as it were,” Rumple said.

“You suggest _we_ find shelter?” Regina said with a sneer.  “What exactly will you be doing while we’re looking?”

“Looking for back up,” Rumple said smoothly.  “There is a certain item in my shop I think could be tremendously helpful in our search.”

Something about the way he said that struck Emma as wrong…her lie detector was going off like mad, but…well emotion did tend to cloud it sometimes.  And, really, they could use all the help they could get.  Deciding that her bad feeling was likely caused by her current hatred of Gold, she let the matter go.

“Okay, so one thing before you go,” she said.  “What’s the deal with the dead people here?  Are they some sort of…I don’t know…zombies?  What happens if we fight them?  If they fight us?”

“I’d suggest you avoid that scenario,” Rumple said.  “As they’re already dead, they cannot be killed.  You, however, don’t have that kind of immunity.”

With that, he poofed away on a red cloud of smoke.  Emma looked at the place he vacated for long moments, and then decided it was time to get to work on Operation Phoenix.

“Okay, well let’s get going on finding shelter.”

_Notes:_

_\--So basically the reason “Colin” doesn’t remember who he is, what his life was like before the previous day, and only vaguely remembers a blonde woman he loves is because Hades cast the season 1 dark curse over the Underworld in order to stop turn-around and keep his employees/servants/slaves around to make his afterlife nice and comfortable._

_\--And that clearly is going to make Emma’s task that much more difficult.  She not only has to_ find _Killian, she has to make him fall in love with her again and remember who he really is._

_\--The “Dan” in the long-long ago scene (the gardener who had finished his unfinished business and was preparing to move on to his eternal reward) was based on real life, sort of.  I teach piano lessons to some kids from a family in a neighboring town.  A week ago, their father Dan was killed in a car accident.  It was so…shocking and sad, and it really hit me hard.  He had 6 kids ranging in age from 2-12, and his wife is due to give birth to kid #7 on March 1.  This is one of the nicest families I’ve ever met, so it’s really devastating (not that it wouldn’t be devastating even if they weren’t nice, but you know what I mean).  Luckily, there are lots and lots of people who know and love them and are doing everything they can for the widow and kids, so that’s hopefully at least some comfort to them.  Anyway, I kind of wanted to give him a little tribute._

_\--Up next:  Long, long ago in the Underworld, the Fates come to Hades with a prophecy—a prophecy he is not even close to happy about (particularly when he gets word that the first bit of it has just taken place).  In the present, the gang heads to Regina’s house, looking for a base of operations—only to find it already occupied by someone none of them want to have a run-in with._


	5. Chapter 5

_The Underworld, long, long ago_

For a brief moment in time, things were quiet, peaceful.  Hades wondered why he hadn’t thought of casting the dark curse months ago.  Turns out having your own realm of servants attentive to your every whim, molded and fashioned into just what you wanted them to be was every bit as enjoyable and luxurious as it sounded.

True, obtaining the curse had been a bit of a pain in the ass (literally for Pain and Panic it turned out).  Chernabog took his role as fierce, creepy guardian of all dark curses seriously.  Hades sent Pain and Panic in after the tiny scroll first, but Chernabog had taken one look at them, and then promptly attempted to tear them limb from limb.  The only reason they “survived” the encounter at all was that they were already dead as coffin nails.

After that fiasco, Hades had sighed dramatically, muttered something about not sending in a mortal to do a god’s job, and gone after the damn thing himself.  He’d no sooner stepped into Chernabog’s lair before the fiery beast lunged at him, apparently chomping at the bit to feed.  (As the Chernabog fed on the souls with the greatest potential for darkness, Hades really had no idea whether to be insulted or honored by the fact that the beast viewed him the way a starving man eyed a nice, juicy steak.)

Being a god, had its perks to be sure.  With a flick of his wrist and a massive eye-roll, Hades froze Chernabog in place, scooped up his chosen curse and waltzed back to the Underworld, promising Chernabog he’d send him the next mass-murdering dictator to come down the pike as a bit of an after dinner snack.

There’d been some nonsense or other about crushing the heart of the thing you love most to make the curse work out and everything, but come on.  He was a god, he was living in a land of people who were already very much dead—some of whom had come here as a result of their hearts being crushed, and then there was the little detail of there being not a single soul in any known realm that Hades loved, all of which apparently convinced the curse to make an exception for him.

He’d cast the curse—complete with Lethe water to induce amnesia—and then stood back to survey his work.

It was magnificent.  The perfect, quaint little town.  He’d spent the first two months going from Underworld resident to Underworld resident, giving them new names and deciding just how exactly they might best serve him.

When he’d finished with that, he’d had the brilliant idea to broaden his base of operations.  Why wait for souls to fall into his lap?  Why not mold and fashion them while they were still on earth?  True, the gods normally didn’t bother much with earth, but once Hades made an exception, it became addicting.  He, Pain and Panic had no end of entertainment creeping up on unsuspecting mortals, massaging circumstances so they’d be sure to have unresolved business when they left earth, convincing them they were ghosts and watching the way the little buggers squirmed, overseeing some of the most spectacular moments of “what could have been” in the history of ever.  It was _endlessly_ amusing.

Best thing about this new Underworld designed in his own image?  It royally pissed Zeus off.  He’d come down to Hades’ domain a week or two after the curse was cast, full to the brim with righteous indignation.  He’d droned on and on about Hades’s “sacred duty” to help souls find their rest, about “how highly unacceptable” it was for Hades to turn them into his own mind-numbed robots for his own ease and entertainment, how he was such a terrible, horrible no-good, very bad god for imprisoning souls in a purgatory from which they’d never be able to leave.

Hades had listened to his self-righteous brother for about five minutes before he decided turn-about is fair play.  Using his own skull medallion, Hades had forced Zeus from his Underworld, and placed a protection spell against _him_.  Seeing Zeus fume and sputter just outside the purview of his protection spell had been the most satisfying thing he’d seen in years.

Slowly but surely Hades realized he was content in the life he led.  Oh, of course, he was still bitter about the whole “Zeus rules over Mount Olympus and Elysium” thing, but what are you going to do?  He’d made one last bid to reclaim his rightful throne—sending Pain and Panic up to Mount Olympus to attempt to steal his lightning medallion, but that had been a wash.  Turns out little brother kept the stupid thing on his person at _all times_.  No way for his clumsy oafs of servants to swipe it.

The failure stung much less than it might have before he’d changed the Underworld.  Think about it; he was immortal.  He literally had all the time in the world to think of a way to reclaim his throne.

And who’s to say his first plan wouldn’t indeed work perfectly?  Month after month, and then year after year passed by with no news of a bouncing baby god on the way.  Seems Zeus and Hera weren’t so fertile after all.  Maybe, with a little luck, the trend would continue indefinitely and Hades could _still_ inherit the throne.  Anything was possible!

Another wonderful day as god of the dead was just coming to a close, and Hades was mulling over what he should have his human slaves make him for dinner, when his luck finally ran out.

With a quick rap on the door, the butler entered Hades’ private lounge.  “Pardon sir, the fates are here to see you.”

All thoughts of dinner forgotten, Hades’ stomach dropped to his very toes.  _The fates_.  No good had ever come from a visit from those ladies.  None.  Normally, they contented themselves with cutting the lifelines of poor, hapless mortals who’s lifespan had come to an end, but occasionally they amused themselves by going to this god or that god and making predictions and prophecies.

Hades supposed some gods were happy to see them.  The last time they’d been to Mount Olympus, for example, they’d promised Zeus good fortune and the fulfillment of all his heart’s desires.  The very next day Cronos had bequeathed Elysium and Mount Olympus to Zeus.

Not so for Hades.  The fates never had a single piece of good news for him.  The last time they’d arrived, they’d predicted he was about to come down with a migraine, and he’d been laid up with a pounding head for three days afterwards.  Who ever heard of a god getting sick?

They were lovely, cryptic menaces, that’s what they were.  They were put in this afterlife solely to make him miserable.  He was sure of it.

Still, it didn’t do to insult them.  Hades could never quite be sure how much control they had over their pronouncements.  Could be they just dictated what they saw, but could also be that they created the fate of those they visited.  If he pissed them off…he could end up with seven years of bad luck or something.  Best be on his best behavior.

“Very well,” Hades said finally, “show them in.”

A moment later, the fates glided in, the picture of poise and dignity.  They were lovely creatures, each with long, wavy brown hair, delicate porcelain features and bright, nearly colorless blue eyes that seemed to have the ability to look straight through whoever they were speaking to.  They wore matching blood-red, floor length gowns covered with voluminous brocade hooded cloaks—cloaks which they only very rarely removed.

“Ladies, ladies,” Hades said pasting on his most debonair smile.  “What brings you to my humble abode this evening?  All good things, I hope?”

The three looked at each other, and then fixed their unnerving gazes on him.  “Good is in the eye of the beholder, oh lord of the dead.  Good for some is undoubtedly tragedy for others.”

Did they _always_ have to talk in these riddles? 

“We’ve come bearing a prophecy,” said the first fate.

“We can only see but a portion,” the second chimed in.

“For the future is murky and uncertain,” the third contributed.

“How ‘bout you wait till you have the whole thing, then come bother.er..enlighten me?” Hades suggested, hopefully.

No such luck.

“The prophecy burns within us.  We must fulfill our duty and impart our words to those to whom they apply.”

Hades sighed, his smile slipping as the resignation crept in.  “Fine, do what you have to do.  What’s this prophecy that applies to me?”

The fates waved their hands, and a dark, cloudy image appeared in the air between them.  Hades could barely tell what it was, but…it kind of looked like him, and the Underworld, and chaos, and confusion, and all manner of unpleasant things.

“You have been granted the rule of the Underworld and all of hell, oh great Hades,” the three said in unison.  “It is a great and terrible responsibility.  You believe you have designed the solution to all your problems, but be not complacent, for your schemes shall be overthrown.  Your brother’s wife, Hera shall give birth to a son who shall be named Hercules.  This child shall be your ruin.”

With that, they lowered their hands, and the image disappeared.

“What?” Hades asked, not at all liking the sound of what they said.  “My _ruin_?  What the hell does that mean?  How’s he gonna ruin me?  When’ll this happen?  Any way to stop it.”

“The future is unclear, save for the visions we’ve been given,” the first fate said.  “We’ve fulfilled our duty and now we must depart.”

With that, the fates glided out as regally as they’d come in.  Hades laughed nervously to himself and ran a hand distractedly through his hair (then promptly yelped as his hair-fire burnt his hand).  Wasn’t that just like the fates to tell him something without _really_ telling him anything?  What was he _possibly_ supposed to do with this information?

Maybe…maybe they were mistaken.  Maybe they’d gotten him mixed up with one of the other gods.  Yeah, surely it was something like that.  After all, Zeus and Hera had been trying for a baby for the better part of ten years now, and…nothing.  What were the odds they’d just up and get pregnant now?

Terrible, that’s what they were.

Hades took a deep breath and nodded to himself.  Yeah, the fates must be mistaken.  No way they got that one correct.  Everyone has their off days, right?

But when the message arrived later that night that the mighty Zeus was expecting a son and heir to be born in six months’ time Hades started to get really concerned.  His worst fears were starting to be realized, and if he didn’t watch it, he’d lose everything.

Best he start thinking of ways to neutralize this “Hercules”, this boy who had the power to destroy him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_The Underworld, present day_

Emma watched Gold poof away feeling more than a little uneasy.  She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.  No telling what plots he had up his sleeve, but she’d bet all she owned none of them were good.

Still, he _had_ gotten them there to the Underworld, and he had told them about the curse—not to mention the fact that the villains were in full possession of their memories.  Assuming he was telling the truth, it was surprisingly useful information.

“So any ideas where we go from here?” she asked the group in general.

“Well…” Mary Margaret said, “Gold told us to find shelter.  I suppose we should get going on that.”

Regina rolled her eyes.  “Gold can do whatever he wants, but I for one don’t want to spend one more minute in this hell-hole than I have to.  I say we skip the shelter idea and start turning this place upside down until we find Emma’s pirate.”

“And if we end up running into opposition along the way?”  Charming asked.  “The heroes around here may not bother us—may not even recognize us—but I’m guessing there’re more than a few villains we sent down here who would like nothing more than our heads on silver platters.”

“Yeah, that could be a problem,” Emma agreed.  “Plus there’s the little issue of the guy who’s running the place—Satan or the devil or Hades or whatever the hell he’s called.  I’m no expert on this stuff, but I’m guessing he’s not going to be thrilled about living people coming down here to steal back one of his souls.  Best we try a less ‘in your face’ approach.”

“Fine, so we go subtle,” Regina said, folding her arms.  “Any ideas what that looks like?”

“As one quite familiar with lying low,” Robin said, “I suggest we cautiously get the lay of the land.  Perhaps we make our way toward a home base where we shall not be disturbed.  A further plan of attack can be decided upon from there; perhaps we can establish a schedule of surveillance.”

“Like a stakeout?” Henry asked eagerly.

“Precisely, lad.”

“Cool.”

Emma wasn’t thrilled with the plan; she was itching to begin the search, itching to be reunited with Killian—to see him alive and well and with her once again.  But it was the best plan they had.  They may only have one shot at this, and if they blew it—no telling if they’d ever get the chance to save Killian again.

“Alright,” she said, “so we find a place to stay and then set up surveillance.  Any ideas about a home base?”

“I’d suggest we try my house—the mayoral mansion,” Regina suggested.  “There’s plenty of room there, so that we’re not tripping all over each other, and it’s close to town which will be convenient for searching.”

No one had any objections, so Regina’s house it was.  Offering to poof the group there, Regina waved her hand…and nothing happened.  She waved again.

Still nothing.

“What the…” she asked, trying for a fireball this time.  For a third time, her efforts came up empty.  “My magic is gone!”

Emma tried hers, focusing on the strongest, most beautiful memories she had.

But try as she might, she was no more able to produce magic than Pongo would have been.  “Mine’s gone too!” she said.  “What’s the deal?”

“Maybe it’s like the curse in Storybrooke,” Henry suggested.  “Maybe it took away the magic.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Mary Margaret said.  “We all just saw Rumplestiltskin poof away.”

“Dark One magic is far stronger and more potent than normal magic,” Regina offered with a sneer.  “If any magic could survive a dark curse it would be his.  Just like Gold to leave that little detail out.  Looks like this fight is going to be even more of a challenge than we first thought.”

David pulled his sword from its scabbard.  “Doesn’t matter.  We’ve fought without magic before, we can do it again.  I will defend my family no matter what hell throws our way!”

“As will I,” Robin said, reaching for his crossbow.  “We may have lost one advantage, but the field is yet ours.  We retain the element of surprise.”

“Assuming Gold isn’t selling us out,” Regina said.

“Well, we can’t worry about him now,” Emma said.  “I came here to save the man I love, and I’m not leaving without him, no matter what kind of demons we have to face.  Let’s just…get to the mayoral house and figure out our next move from there.”

They set off toward the town, letting Robin and Mary Margaret to set the course.  Having spent a good deal of time hiding from those who wished them harm, it was decided those two were their best chance at avoiding notice.  It seemed to work; they made the two mile trip without coming in contact with a soul.  Really, for a town supposedly teeming with centuries' worth of dead people, this place seemed empty.

“Where do you think everyone is?” Henry whispered as they reached the street on which Regina’s house was located.

“I think I can answer that,” David said, swiping a sheet of paper from a lamppost to which it had been affixed.  “Looks like there’s a big town hall meeting being held this afternoon.”

“And _everyone’s_ attending?” Emma asked skeptically.

David shrugged.  “Underworld folks must be an excessively civic minded group.”

“That’s great!” Henry said.  “If everyone’s at a town meeting we ought to be in the clear!”

With that, he jogged up the walk until he landed at the mayoral front door.

“Henry wait!” Regina called.  “We have no idea what we’ll find there, and…I don’t know I have a bad feeling about this.”

Emma looked up at the immaculately cared for building and had the inescapable feeling that Regina was right.  Something was…off here.  She peered intently at the house, and then looked at the grounds around it, and suddenly it came to her.  The house was _too_ well maintained, _too_ well cared for.  Every other building, city street and landmark looked dingy, run-down, in disrepair, but _this_ house looked pristine.

“Regina’s right!” Emma said quickly.  “Somebody’s been taking care of this place, and the vibe I’m getting…it’s not anyone friendly.  We need to be careful.”

Henry dropped his hand from the doorknob and waited as the rest of the group joined him.  Regina peered into the front window, hand shading her eyes.  After a moment, she stiffened.  “Mother,” she muttered under her breath.

“Mother?” Mary Margaret repeated uneasily.  “Are you saying _Cora_ lives here?  _Cora_ is the town mayor?”

Regina was grim as she turned back toward the group.  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.  My mother’s little touches are all over that front room.  I’d recognize a home of hers anywhere.”

Mary Margaret took a step back, leaning into her husband’s protective embrace.  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but Cora is someone I definitely don’t want to run into down here.”

Emma caught something out of the corner of her eyes…some slight movement, something.  It was subtle, but it made the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention.  “Mom’s right,” she said under her breath.  “We’re not safe here; I think we’re being watched.”

“Watched?” David said, “by whom?”

“No idea, but I’m definitely getting the idea that it’s no one with good intentions toward us.  Come on, let’s move.”

The group scattered, rushing into the woods behind the mayor’s house, not stopping until they’d reached the heart of the forest.

“Now what?” Henry asked.  “did we lose them?”

Robin looked around, surveying their surroundings carefully.  “Yes.  It would appear we’re completely alone.”

“So,” Emma said, “apparently we won’t be staying at Regina’s house.  Any other ideas?”

“We could try the loft,” Mary Margaret suggested.  “It’d be pretty tight for all seven of us, but if it’s not occupied, it would be better than nothing.”

“It also has the advantage of being right in the heart of town,” David said.  “Good place to keep watch on what’s going on around here.  Might be our best bet unless we want to camp in the woods.”

The sun was beginning to set, taking the stifling heat of the day with it.  Emma shivered as a wind cold as winter picked up.  If the temperature kept dropping as quickly as it was doing now, camping in the woods was definitely not a pleasant prospect.  “Yeah, let’s check out the loft.  I have no idea who that was who saw us at the mayor’s house, but…I’d feel a lot better having a safe—and warm—place to regroup and figure out where we go from here.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hades sat on his front porch, idly reading his favorite self-help book “How to lose friends and terrorize people” as he sipped a cold beverage when suddenly his cell phone rang.  Carefully marking his place with a bookmark, Hades looked down at the device, noting a photo surrounded with hearts.

“Cora, my dear,” he said after pressing the ‘talk’ rather than the ‘destroy’ button, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m not sure how pleasant this is going to be,” she said grimly.

Hades frowned.  “What do you mean?  A call from you is always pleasant.”

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” Cora said.  “I just learned from an incredibly reliable source that _she’s_ here.”

Hades felt his heartbeat quicken.  “Tell me you don’t mean…”

“The very same,” Cora said.  “The savior’s here.”

“What does she know of Colin?”

“Nothing yet,” came the cautious answer.  “It seems neither she nor any in her party have much information at all at this time.”

Hades sighed in relief.  “Well, then for the moment we’re in the clear.  Perhaps I better pay Colin a visit; make sure he’s still compliant.”

There was silence on the line for a long moment.  Finally Cora spoke again.  “My lord, it would be unwise to underestimate Emma Swan.  There’s a power in her like I’ve never seen before, and when she’s motivated by love…well our life, the life we built here together might be in grave danger.”

Hades laughed.  “My love, you worry too much.  I’m a _god_.  A mere human, no matter how powerful doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

“And you don’t worry enough!” Cora spat.

Hades sobered.  “Fine.  I’ll take that under advisement.  Just have your source keep an eye on them.  If they start getting too close, we can always kill them.  Until then, let’s not dwell on these unpleasant topics.  I’ve a special evening planned for us and I have no intention of letting any ‘savior’ spoil it.”

_Notes:_

_\--What’s up with Hades and Cora?  What’s Hades going to find when he goes and pays Colin a visit? Hades doesn’t seem_ too _concerned about the newcomers yet…but will that change as they come closer and closer to reaching their goal?_

_\--Up next: Long, long ago, when Hades hears the news of Hercules’s birth, he concocts a plan to neutralize him as a threat, but will Pain and Panic be able to satisfactorily execute said plan?  In the present day section, we catch back up with Colin and see what happens when he’s visited by a certain “distinguished gentleman”.  Meanwhile, we catch back up with Rumple as he visits another familiar face at the Underworld version of his shop.  Is Emma’s concern about his motives justified?  Does he have some other plan to screw everyone over up his sleeve?  With Rumple…you can never rule that out._


	6. Chapter 6

_The Enchanted Forest, many years ago._

“What are we going to do?  What are we going to do?! _What are we going to do?!!!_ ” Panic moaned as he frantically paced the forest clearing, alternately wringing his hands and pulling at his hair.  “Hades is going to _kill_ us!”

Pain rolled his eyes.  “He’s not going to _kill_ us.  He can’t _kill_ us.  We’re already _dead_.”

Panic stopped for a moment and threw his accomplice a profoundly dirty look.  “Knowing him, who knows?  He’ll probably resurrect us just so that he can kill us again.  Slowly.  Painfully.  Then he’ll toss us in hell where we’ll get to spend eternity being chewed up by his three-headed monster.  Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want,” Pain drawled.  “Sounds like fun.  Where do I sign up?”

Panic sighed dramatically.

“Look,” Pain said, “we screwed up, but we’ve got a good three hours before Hades sends out a search party to drag our butts back to the Underworld.  We’ve got time.  We can figure something out.”

It had been one of those missions where _nothing_ went right.  Nothing.  It had been that way from the very beginning with the two of them.  They’d met up when they were still teenagers, set out immediately to pull off small-time crime after small time crime—with only the most questionable of results.  As they’d grown up, they’d broadened their horizons; met up with various bands of brigands, and continued to have the worst luck imaginable. 

Finally, their luck had run out in the midst of the biggest heist of their lives, and they’d gone out in…well, not exactly a blaze of glory.  They’d been assigned the duty of being the lookouts while the rest of the posse robbed the local magistrate clean.  A very old, very feeble-looking woman walked past, somehow realized what they were doing, and promptly gave them the beat down of their lives with her cane.  They’d fled blindly, hands covering their heads.  Grandma packed quite the punch!  In the end, they’d run right into oncoming traffic and been hit by a couple of horse-drawn chariots speeding through the streets.

Next thing they knew, they were chained up in Hades’ basement.

And Panic knew deep in his being that when Hades found out how they’d mucked this up, he was going to make the chariot incident look like a pleasure cruise.

It had all begun a week ago when word arrived that the little god-ling, Hercules, had been born.  Hades had gone ballistic, yelling at the top of his lungs, setting fire to anything he could get his hands on, swearing so fluently, Panic hadn’t even _heard_ some of the terms he was using.

Eventually he’d calmed enough to once again turn devious.  He’d decided that the biggest issue where Hercules was concerned was his god status.  After all, only gods could inherit supernatural locales. 

So the solution was simple: take away Hercules’ god-hood.  The god of the dead spent a couple of days brewing a mortality potion.  Once that was ready to go, it was just a matter of kidnapping the little god, feeding him the potion, and doing him in.  Simple!

Simple in concept.  Not so simple in execution.

Hades had the itty-bitty little problem of being categorically unable to enter Mount Olympus and carry out the dastardly deed.  So he employed his most…well, not _trustworthy_ …exactly, but at least his most loyal of subjects, Pain and Panic.

“Now listen up,” he’d said as he set them about their task.  “You’re kidnapping Hercules.  He’s a baby.  A baby _god_.  Not a baby unicorn.  Not a baby Pegasus.  Not a baby penguin.  A baby god.  He’ll be sleeping in a cradle.  You pick him up, carry him out of Mount Olympus, and take him to earth.”

Pain had sighed.  “We _know_ how to carry out a simple kidnapping.”

“Really?” Hades asked.  “Is that like how you ‘know’ how to feed Cerberus?  Really, how hard is it to feed a dog?  Yet somehow you two blithering idiots managed to upset an entire ring of hell when you failed, let the three-headed mutt out of his dog house, spilled his food into the river Styx, and ran away screaming like ugly little babies.”

“That wasn’t our fault!” Pain had groused.

“Never is, is it?” Hades asked with a sigh.  “Look, I’ll probably regret this, but you two are my only shot here.  You fail, I’ll probably never get a shot at Hercules.  And if that happens I will be angry.  Do you know what will happen if I get angry.”

Panic had gulped.  “Bad things for us?”

“Yeah,” Hades said with a nasty grin.  “Really, really bad things for you.  So let’s review:  You steal the kid, feed him the bottle of potion—the _entire_ bottle; he has to drink _every last drop_ —you do him in, and then you hightail it back here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Pain nodded solemnly.

The first leg of the operation had gone smoothly.  They’d been in and out of Zeus’s palace in five minutes flat, peacefully sleeping baby god in their arms. 

But then things had begun to go sideways.  They’d no more left Mount Olympus’s fabulous castle before they started arguing.  Where should they take the little brat?  Pain thought earth was their best bet, but Panic was insistent on the Enchanted Forest.  After all, they’d never _been_ there before.  When else were they going to get the opportunity?

Well, their arguing had alerted a guard, and Pain had quickly agreed to go along with the Enchanted Forest plan just to shut Panic up, and they’d only barely made it out of Mount Olympus and avoided capture.

Once in the Enchanted Forest, a new complication had arisen.  Little Hercules flat out refused to drink his bottle of potion.  He’d taken one taste, and then turned up his little nose in disgust.  They’d tried everything—praising, coaxing, yelling, reasoning.  No luck.

Finally, finally, the kid got hungry and started drinking.  For a brief, beautiful moment in time it looked like they were going to pull it off.

And then tragedy struck.

Panic held the bottle in Hercules’s mouth, watching as the potion slowly, slowly disappeared.  Suddenly the sound of approaching wheels startled him, and he jumped a mile.  Most unfortunately, the motion pulled the bottle from the baby’s lips, and the next thing Panic knew, it was flying through the air, landing on the rocky path, and shattering into a million pieces—taking the last swallow of mortal potion with it.

Pain and Panic had rushed after it, trying to soak it up, trying to salvage the situation, but by the time they reached the broken glass, the potion had already seeped into the ground.  It was totally and definitively gone.

To make matters worse, when they returned to the road, baby Herc was _gone._ Seems the people in the carriage—the ones who started the whole mess in the first place, had found the baby alone on the road and taken him in.

So here they stood, having royally mucked up their mission.  Again.  Hercules wasn’t fully mortal, nor had they killed him.  And with that, Hades’ big shot at getting rid of his nephew was up in smoke.

“When Hades finds out, he’s going to _kill_ us!” Panic said again.

Pain shot him a suddenly shot him a cunning look.  “ _If_ he finds out.”

“What?”

“Who says we have to tell him the truth?” Pain asked.  “Hades asks how the mission went?  All we have to say is that we kidnapped the baby, fed him the potion and got rid of him.  It’s not a lie…at least not exactly.  Nothing says we have to tell him he didn’t drink _every_ drop.  Nothing says we have to tell him we ‘got rid of him’ by letting mortals find and adopt him.”

Panic smiled slowly, seeing a tiny ray of hope.  “I like ‘if’.  If is good.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Colin stretched, raising his hands above his head and getting to his feet.  He’d written 5000 words today, and he felt the deep satisfaction of a good day’s work.  He’d made serious progress, finishing out an action packed chapter and leaving his readers with a cliff hanger.

He knew instinctively that it was good work, too.  The words had flowed from his fingers like never before today.  Captain Hook had found his Crocodile in the town of Storybrooke, Maine.  Hook knew he’d have to be clever and use his wits as the Crocodile had his powers back in this strange new land.  After a bit of subterfuge, a few moments of massaging circumstances, a few run-ins with Rumplestiltskin’s lady, he’d taken his first swipe at revenge.  He’d shot Belle, pushing her across the town line—erasing her memories.

Revenge looked sweet.  Though she still lived, Rumple had effectively lost Belle every bit as much as Hook had lost Milah.  The triumph had lasted all of two minutes—and then a car had come out of nowhere, speeding across the town line, and crashing directly into Hook.

Colin’s brow furrowed as he thought back on his latest chapter.  It was strange.  His imagination had never felt this _vivid_ before.  As he wrote, it was more like he was reliving past events than creating plot points.  It was as though he could feel the events as they happened to Hook.  He felt the rage at the Crocodile, the simmering pain over Milah’s loss, the captivation with the lovely Miss Swan.  He felt the rain pelt him as he stood on that road and lifted his arm, pointed his pistol at Belle.  He felt the quick moment of excruciating pain—and then the pleasant slip into unconsciousness as the noisy, metal conveyance ran him down.

Aye, it was strange indeed.

But the vivid imagination and unnatural ease in writing was but the tip of the iceberg.  Things were changing.  He and his whole world was on the cusp of a change, a radical and overwhelming change.  Colin had no idea what that might be or why he was so certain, but he just _knew_.  He knew in the way one senses a change in the weather, an impending storm.

He’d dreamt again of _her_ last night, and even that was changing, developing, coming into brighter focus.  While he still couldn’t see her clearly, he saw her long hair, soft and golden, recognized her eyes, green as the sea.  Heard her sweet voice.

The feeling of déjà vu, that he _knew_ her and not just in his brain’s fertile nighttime wanderings, was growing stronger by the moment.  It was crazy, absolutely _insane_ , but suddenly he knew he had to get to her.  She needed his help—or he needed hers—and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Colin got up and went to his spyglass, soothing his soul with the view of the moon against his beloved sea.  He thought back on last night’s dream…

_Killian—no!  Prince Charles!  He must remain in character—sat beside the fire with Swan’s father.  It was agony remaining still when his love was in the Evil Queen’s clutches, but there was nothing for it.  Their only chance at rescuing her was to put their faith in Snow White and hope she spoke truthfully when she offered to help them find a way into the palace._

_Still, though they might be forced into inactivity while they waited, there was nothing that said Charles couldn’t further the cause he and Swan had been resolutely working toward._

_“You excited for your nuptials?” he began, stirring the fire, coaxing the flames._

_“I’m marrying Midas’s daughter; what’s not to be excited about?” Charming’s tone sounded anything but excited._

_“I don’t mean to pry, mate, but you don’t exactly look like a man who’s doing this by choice.”_

_Charming hummed deep in his throat.  “I always thought I’d marry for love,” he said reflectively, “and here I am about to enter into what amounts to a business transaction, a merger of two kingdoms.  I don’t know.  This whole thing makes me wonder if there’s even such a thing as true love.”_

_Prince bloody Charming was beginning to doubt the very existence of True Love?  It would appear things were far more desperate than even he had believed.  Something needed to be done and fast or all would be lost.  Perhaps if Charles were to speak from his own heart, use his own wisdom (or foolishness; he could never be quite sure when it came to his love for Swan), he could nudge Charming back onto the right path._

_“I once felt as you did, mate,” he began, “but all it took was meeting the right person and everything changed.”_

_“Princess Leia?  The one we’re rescuing?” charming asked._

_“Aye.  I’d go to the end of the world for her…or time.”_

The dream had had ended not long thereafter, but that declaration remained.  _I’d go to the end of the world for her…or time_.  It ran through his head like a mantra.  He’d do anything for her.

And somehow, he knew now that she’d do the same for him.

But he must find her; he _must_.  It was…crazy thinking like this.  Who ever heard of a man going after a woman who only resided within his mind?

But crazy or not, it didn’t matter.  Something compelled him beyond reason or logic.  _Love_.  Love compelled him, and he could not turn from it.

One large obstacle remained.  How was he to go after the dream woman he loved if he was bound to remain within his own house?  Colin frowned to himself.  _Why_ was he bound to remain here?  Why had he never stopped to question the one, immutable rule of his existence?  _Why_ couldn’t he leave if he so wished?

_Because bad things will happen if you do._

_What_ bad things?  And was anything truly worse than allowing the woman of his dreams to search and fight alone?  Without his aid?

And with that, Colin came to a decision.  Fear would not define him.  It was too late to start tonight, but come the morning he _was_ going to leave this house.  Come the morning he _was_ going to find this woman, wherever she was, and stand by her side for the rest of his days…as long as she’d let him.

His resolution made, Colin smiled to himself, deciding to prepare some dinner.  It was amazing the new lease on life that descended upon one when his life’s purpose was renewed.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hades took a deep breath, and then rapped on Colin Delamer’s front door.  Cora worried too much; surely that’s all it was.  His curse had been alive and well for centuries.  Never once had it showed the slightest sign of weakening.  It was madness to even suspect that was about to change now.

So the “savior” was here.  So what?  She’d managed to break a curse in the land of the living—a curse she was specifically written into _as_ the savior.  Big deal.  His curse was far, far more powerful than the one the Evil Queen had cast, and he’d been sure not to write in anything remotely resembling an _escape clause_.  He and his whole way of life were _safe._

He’d just pay Colin a little visit, reassure himself the man was every bit as clueless about his real identity as he’d ever been, breathe a sigh of relief at another crisis averted, and go about his day.  Simple.

He’d donned his “human” persona—brown, non-flaming hair and a fabulously tailored suit and set off on his way.

Just as Hades began to believe his first knock went unheard, footsteps sounded in the foyer, and the door opened.

Colin’s initial look of polite inquiry changed quickly to one of shocked surprise.  “You’re…you’re?”

Hades smirked and then bowed.  “The distinguished gentleman who runs this town at your service.”

Colin looked flattered…and perhaps a bit intimidated.  Good.  Good to know he still had the ability to frighten people out of their wits.  (Not that most people had many wits to be frightened out of to begin with.)

“I’m…honored,” Colin said finally, stepping back and gesturing for Hades to come in.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hades stepped inside and waited for his host to close the door before he answered.  “Just making my rounds.  Wanted to stop and see how things are going for everyone; see if there’s anything I can do to make your life in this town better.”

Colin’s brow furrowed as though he was deep in thought.  After a moment, his expression cleared and he offered Hades a polite smile.  “Everything is fine, though I do appreciate the gesture.”

“You’re sure nothing is the matter?” Hades asked, peering at him intently.  “Nothing has…change?  No…restlessness?”

Suddenly Colin looked troubled—quite troubled—and Hades began to feel uneasy.

“It’s strange you should ask that,” Colin said slowly, reflectively. “I must admit, a strange restlessness has come over me. I can’t explain it.  For as long as I can remember, I’ve been happy, content to remain home, writing my books, spinning the stories in my head, but suddenly…suddenly I feel as though there’s a whole world that I need to explore.  Suddenly I have an unexplainable conviction that there’s someone out there—a beautiful blonde woman—who’s desperately searching for me; who I must find.    Strange indeed; it was only just this moment I made my decision to go on a quest to find her when you knocked.”

The alarm bells in Hades head blared to life.  Things were worse than even Cora had imagined.  Not only was Colin beginning to remember the savior, he was planning to _go after her_.  Hade’s entire empire was about to crumble to the ground like a poorly constructed house of cards.  It would seem he’d gotten here just in the nick of time.

“My apologies,” Colin said after a moment, his cheeks and the tips of his ears quickly reddening.  “What am I thinking, bothering you with my concerns?  Where are my manners?  Would you like to stay for tea?  I just filled the tea pot; it wouldn’t take me a moment to…”

Hades flicked his hand and Colin froze in place.  _Everything_ froze in place.  It was one of the perks of being the lord of the Underworld.  With the flick of his wrist he could simply make time stand still.  (Came in quite handy on those cold, dark mornings when he wanted nothing more than to sleep in, but the alarm clock wouldn’t stop screaming at him.)

Rummaging around for a moment in his pocket, Hades pulled out a large flask of Lethe water.  His newest town resident needed another _major_ dose of memory loss, and there was no time to lose.  Hades pulled out the stopper and up ended the entire contents of the flask over Colin Delamer, dousing him entirely.  For good measure, he shuffled over to the tea pot, magicked away the water already waiting to be boiled, and replaced it with that from his flask.

That ought to do it.  That ought to keep Colin compliant—and far, far away from dangerous thoughts about leaving and searching out the savior.

Replacing the stopper, and putting the flask back in his pocket, Hades made sure to stand right where he was before he stopped time, and then snapped his fingers.  The clock on the wall began ticking once again.

“….wouldn’t take me a moment to brew you a cup.”

Hades smiled cordially.  “Don’t mind if I do.”

He followed Colin into the kitchen, waited until the man turned his burner on high, and then set about testing whether or not the Lethe water had done its job.

“So,” Hades said, as Colin reached into his cabinet for his tin of assorted teas.  “Where do you think you’ll begin your search.”

Colin froze in place, and then slowly turned toward Hades, confusion written all over his features.  “Search?  What search?”

Hades felt the knot in his stomach slowly begin to loosen.  “The search for your beautiful blonde woman, of course.  Didn’t you say you were preparing to leave; head out for an adventure?”

Colin’s eyebrows rose to his very hairline.  “Leave?  Good lord no!  What could possibly convince me to leave?  I know full well that if I set foot from this house terrible things will happen.”

The relief settled over Hades like a cloak.  The water had done its job!  Best try one last test.  “But the blonde woman…the ‘savior’…you have no plans to find her?”

Colin laughed as he poured the boiling water into two tea cups.  “Sir, I believe you’ve been spending too much time with your nose buried in my novels.  The only beautiful blonde savior I ‘know’ is the heroine of my stories.  I’m not nearly daft enough to leave the safety of my home to go on a fool’s errand to find a figment of my imagination!”

Hades laughed with him.  “Yeah, good point.”

It was okay.  Everything was back to the way it was supposed to be.  Colin didn’t remember a thing.  Hades could once again rest easy.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rumple opened the door to the Underworld’s version of his shop and listened as the bell chimed ominously, alerting the proprietor to his presence.  The boy behind the desk looked up and then grinned nastily.

“Hello laddie,” he said smugly, “I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Papa,” Rumple said, inclining his head and sneering as he strode purposely forward.  “I don’t expect you did, but then I’d have thought you’d given up on expectations, seeing as though they never work out the way you planned.”

Peter Pan’s lips compressed in anger for a brief moment, and then the mocking grin was back.  “So sad about your son, Baelfire, isn’t it?  Poor, hapless Neal!  All those plans and hopes you had for ‘happily ever after’, up in smoke!  And the worst part?  The worst part is that he’s not even here.  We can’t even have a big, joyful Stiltskin family reunion.  Your son died a hero, all his ‘unfinished business’ taken care of when Zelena was defeated.”

“I’m not here to talk about my son,” Rumple said through gritted teeth.  “I’m here to reclaim something that belongs to me.”

“That belongs to you?” Pan said with a nasty chuckle.  “ _Nothing_ in this shop belongs to you.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want,” Pan said, “but we both know the only way you’re here is if someone destroyed you.  You, laddie are as powerless here as you were when I let you with those daft old spinners.”

Rumple  raised his hand and began to squeeze at the air.  Pan gave him a brief, startled look, before clawing at the magic currently crushing his windpipe.  “Powerless, Papa?  I think not.”

He squeezed for another moment and then let go.  Pan massaged his throat and then spoke, voice slightly gravelly from his choking. “How is this possible?  How are you here?  _Why_ are you here?”

“Let’s just say I have my ways, and my reasons are my own.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Pan asked quietly.  “Somehow you found a way to come back without death.”

“Indeed.”

Pan smirked once more.  “Don’t get too complacent, my boy.  Hades and Cora have spies everywhere.  It’s only a matter of time before he learns of your presence.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it” Rumple said.  “As it happens, I have a little business proposition for the lord of the dead himself; something I believe he’ll find quite mutually beneficial.”

Pan looked intrigued in spite of himself.  “What kind of deal could you possibly want to make with the devil?”

“That’s my business,” Rumple said derisively.  “Your business is to get me the item I seek.”

Pan crossed his arms and leaned languidly against his back counter.  “And just what is that item?”

“In the land of the living, I possess a tea cup, one that is quite precious to me.  It was chipped many, many years ago.  I am here in search of that missing chip.”

“And you think I’d have it here?”

Rumple nodded.  “It’s my most precious destroyed possession.  As such, its remnant will remain.  As such it is a perfect candidate for your establishment.  Now, will you get it willingly, or will I need to waste time with more…Dark One persuasion?”

Pan narrowed his eyes, remaining silent for a moment.  “Answer me one question,” he demanded at long last.  “What could you possibly want with a tiny piece of broken china?”

“It’s not the broken china I care about,” Rumple answered, “but the spell on it.  I sprinkled that particular item with a bit of dust I obtained from Camelot.  With it in my possession, I can mold the minds of those I come in contact with; I can control them.”

Pan scoffed.  “It won’t save you against Hades.  Gods aren’t affected by paltry human spells.”

“It’s not Hades for whom I intend this spell.”

“No?” Pan asked, clearly surprised.

“No indeed,” Rumple said, feeling the anger once again mount.  “It’s my hapless travelling companions who ought to watch themselves.  No one.  _No one_ blackmails the Dark One without repercussions.  It’s about time Miss Swan and her motley band of ‘heroes’ learn that lesson once and for all.”

Pan smiled once more.  “Well then, in that case, it will be my great pleasure to get you everything you need.”

_Notes:_

_\--So there you have it.  Pain and Panic once again failed spectacularly at completing Hades’ demands.  Hercules is alive, but is now mostly mortal.  In the present timeline…Colin_ almost _remembered who he was, and had gotten to the point where he was ready to break Hades’ strict “you are never to leave your house.  Ever!” rule…at least up until Hades showed up and memory-erased him again.  Darn it, Hades!  Things were looking so good for CS there for a moment!  Then you have Rumple, and the fact that he’s_ definitely _got something up his sleeve.  But what exactly is it?_

_\--Up next: We meet one more important character in the Hades/Hercules backstory.  In the present, Emma and company make their first significant attempt to find Killian.  They decide to search the docks.  They don’t find their missing pirate, but they do run into someone Emma never thought she’d get the opportunity to meet.  Meanwhile, Rumple meets with Hades and lays out his business proposition—one that Hades simply cannot refuse._


	7. Chapter 7

_Enchanted Forest, several years before the Dark Curse_

“That poor girl,” one village woman whispered to another as she stepped up to the village well, “so young yet, and so alone.”

“Terrible,” the second said with a shake of the head, “just terrible.  Did she ever have parents?  A family?”

“Well she must have had parents at one point,” the first said, “but she’s been alone as long as I’ve known of her.”

Megara gritted her teeth and walked past the well, determinedly pretending she couldn’t hear the old gossips talking about her.  Her life, her family situation was nobody’s business but her own, and she wished her fellow villagers could get that through their thick skulls.  Didn’t they have lives of their own to prattle on about?

And really!  Maybe her life wasn’t perfect, but she was surviving.  She could take care of herself; she’d been doing it since she was ten and her parents were swept away in that epidemic that ravaged her old village.

She didn’t _need_ a family.  She didn’t _need_ anyone but herself.

And what was with the “so young” bit?  She was eighteen years old.  Some of the village girls were married and had a couple kids by that age.

The point was, the village gossips could wag their tongues about someone else for a while.  She was _fine_.  She was just _fine._    Being a loner suited her perfectly.  She didn’t even want anyone else in her life….

Suddenly the clip-clop of an approaching horse, the squeaking of wagon wheels, the strong clear tenor voice of a man singing his heart out interrupted her thoughts.  She looked up quickly, and found the vehicle nearly right on top of her.

It all happened so fast.  The horses screamed and reared up, the man driving pulled back on the reins, desperately trying to get them under control, trying to avoid the collision, and Meg dove to the side, landing with a thud onto the grassy bank on the side of the dirt road.

She sat up after a moment, and brushed herself off, cursing softly under her breath as she saw all of the provisions she’d gone to town to buy scattered throughout the grass.

She heard the wagon driver continue struggling to get his beasts back under control, but evidently he eventually succeeded.  Tying his horses to a nearby tree, he rushed in her direction.

“My apologies, lass,” he said, rushing forward, “are you hurt?  Do you need help.”

Hardly in the mood to deal with the clumsy oaf who apparently couldn’t watch where he was going, Meg ignored his proffered hand and got to her feet herself.  “Yeah, I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“I can see that,” he said in an amused voice that had more than a hint of flirtation in it.

She looked up, preparing to give him the kind of tongue lashing that would make him rue the day he was born.

And then she froze, her mouth hanging open stupidly.

He was, quite frankly, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.  Blue eyes, deep as the sea, soft blond hair, curling slightly at the ends, delicate features, almost effeminate in their beauty.  He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, and from the bulging muscles that strained his tunic, he appeared to be more than used to physical labor.

He smirked.  “Like something you see?”

That snapped her out of it, and her cheeks burned as she realized she’d just spent a good two minutes straight ogling the oaf who’d almost run her down.

“You wish,” she muttered, hating herself, trying to infuse her words with as much distain as possible.

Somehow they only came out breathy. 

Deciding she’d humiliated herself enough for one afternoon, she turned back toward the grass and began gathering up her scattered groceries. ( _And I’ll see if I can find my scattered dignity while I’m at it.)_

He was at her side in an instant.  “Here, let me help you.  It is, after all, my fault.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it is,” she muttered.

He smiled as delightedly as if she’d just paid him the most extravagant compliment.  “You’ve got fire.  I like that.  I like that indeed.”

“Look,” she said, “I’m sure you’ve got places to be, things to do, more unsuspecting women to run off the road.  I’ve got this.”

He shook his head, pasting a sorrowful look on his face.  “Nonsense.  I’ve inconvenienced you.  Allow me to replace the provisions that were spoiled.  I’m sure I have what you need in my wagon.”

“Yeah…” she said, refusing to look him in the eye (when you looked in the sun, after all, you ran the risk of going blind).  “Not in the habit of taking handouts from strange men.”

“Come now,” he wheedled.  “A fair lass such as yourself, a goddess as it were, deserves to be treated as royalty.  At least allow me to buy you a drink at the local tavern.  Allow me to make right my egregious wrong.”

She could spot a smooth talker when she saw one, but something about this man’s smile…about the genuine attraction she saw shining in his eyes…about his drop-dead gorgeous person, made her throw caution to the wind.

“Why not?”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

She learned that his name was Michael and he was a travelling salesman.  “A connoisseur of the most fantastic items this side of Camelot,” he’d bragged.  On a whim, he’d decided to add her village to his route, and he insisted it was the best decision of his life.

The one drink in the tavern turned into two…and then three…and then dinner…and then talking…and then kissing.  Probably would have gone on from there, but Meg still had a _little_ self-respect.  She pulled back just as the peddler’s hands began to wander in earnest.

“Meg, love,” he’d whined, “you’re cruel.  Giving a man a glimpse of heaven and then snatching it away.”

She’d grinned, shoving him gently.  “Just trying to give you a little incentive to come back again.”

“Oh, my love,” he purred, “that you can count on.  I’ll return to you the minute I’m able.”

He’d taken her hand in his, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her palm.

Meg slowly walked home in the twilight, stars in her eyes, wondering if she’d ever see her travelling salesman again.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

She did indeed.

Michael came back one week to the day from their first meeting.  He’d sought her out, gone on and on about how much he’d missed her, how he’d thought of her every moment of his absence, how he counted the days before he could return to her.

They’d spent every moment of that day together.

As the months progressed, he returned more and more frequently, sometimes only a day passing in between his visits, and with every passing day, Meg fell more and more in love.

This man was her soulmate, her true love, the one for her.

Strange how your whole world, your whole outlook on life could change in an instant.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Six months later, Meg was in a darkened corner of the pub, sitting on Michael’s lap, fiercely making out with him, when all the excitement started.

The news was like an excited wave, passing from person to person in the pub.

“Snow White was here!  Snow White passed through.”

“What?  Snow White?  _The_ Snow White?”

“Aye, in the flesh!  The rightful queen herself.”

“Where is she?  Let me through!  I wanna catch a glimpse!”

“She’s long gone now; just stopped by for some provisions.  Didn’t wanna put us in danger if the Evil Queen stops by.”

“Kind of her.  Wish I could have given her something.  Anything I could do to help her take back her rightful throne!”

“You and everyone in town!  She got more donations of food and provisions than she could eat in a year.”

Meg had to admit, she was intrigued.  Everyone knew the story of Snow White, the rightful queen who’d been pushed out and hunted down by the usurper Regina.  Snow White was something of a hero to Meg.  This fierce, brave woman who fought and survived, and would (gods willing) one day take the throne for herself, was someone Meg would love to meet.

But Snow White was like a ghost, slipping soundlessly from one village to another, never staying in one place for long.

While a visit by Snow White was news indeed, it wasn’t until later that afternoon that the _real_ excitement broke out.

Meg hung on Michael’s arm as he peddled his wares in the town square, when suddenly Regina, the Evil Queen herself rode regally into town flanked by a full battalion of her black knights.

A pall passed through town as people slowly realized who had come into their midst.  Some scattered, making their way into their homes, but others seemed frozen in place, unable to move past their fear.

Regina took her time stepping to the ground, and then she looked upon the assembly with a stern glance.  “I received word,” she said after a moment, “that the bandit Snow White was seen in your town this morning.  There is a substantial reward for anyone who will step forward with further information as to her whereabouts.”

She was met with utter silence.  She waited for a tense minute, and then another, her expression becoming steadily more and more stormy.

“No one?” she finally thundered.  “Not a single _one_ of you has enough sense in your thick skull to give me the information I need?”

Still no one spoke, no one stepped forward.

Regina cursed fluently.  “Very well, if you won’t cooperate willingly, you will learn just what happens to those unbelievably stupid souls who cross me.”

Without warning, she struck out her hand, magic flowing from her and wrapping, coiling itself around the man beside her.  Meg cried out as she felt Michael being tugged away.

“No!”

Regina waved a hand, and Meg fell back, feeling as though a mighty hand held her back.

Meg looked on in horror as Michael struggled against the Evil Queen as she held him in thrall.  But struggle as he might, he couldn’t make an inch of headway against his captor.

“Listen well,” Regina said in a cold, menacing voice.  “This man will be executed on this very spot tomorrow at noon.  Let him serve as a warning to the rest of you, to _anyone_ else in the kingdom who has the misguided notion of protecting Snow White.”

With that, she disappeared with Michael in a cloud of purple smoke.  Meg felt her heart drop to her very toes.  This couldn’t happen.  It _couldn’t!_   She _couldn’t_ lose the man she loved.  Somehow, some way, she had to find a way to save him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_The Underworld, present day_

Emma paced the floor distractedly, returning every few moments to the apartment window, wishing, praying that that faint trace of light would expand, bringing with it the dawn.  This night was _interminable_!

She’d spent a near sleepless night, only dropping into the most fitful of slumber here and there when the exhaustion became too much for her.  How could they just _stay_ here and sleep while Killian was out there?  Alone, maybe in pain, maybe being tortured, maybe suffering more than they could imagine.  Who _knows_ what he was going through?

All Emma knew was that she _had_ to get to him, and any delay, no matter how reasonable was like a knife to her heart.  Would her family _never_ wake up?

At least they had a place to stay.  That was saying something.  They’d gotten a break of luck when they’d gotten to the Underworld equivalent of the Charming’s flat.  It became apparent right away that not only was no one living here, but it had been forgotten and abandoned for years or even decades.

The place was a nightmare.  Cob webs hung from every surface, the furniture and other furnishings were broken, stained, torn.  Graffiti spelling out the most vulgar and disgusting phrases peppered the walls.  (Regina had taken one look at the place, and promptly put a hand over Henry's eyes, declaring the writing highly unfit for teenage eyes.)

Mary Margaret cried out in dismay at the destruction of the flat she’d made into a home with her true love, turning after a moment and burying herself in the circle of her husband’s arms.

Emma looked around grimly.  It was rough, no denying that, but it actually was kind of perfect for their needs.  No one was going to accidentally walk in on them here.  Even the rats seemed to be keeping a careful and determined distance.

Not exactly shocking, but it turned out the electricity had been shut off in this hovel.  The result was, once the sun went down, it was _dark_.  They were all tired after their journey—and all the crap that had gone down over the past few weeks—so it had been decided that they’d retire for the night and meet up the next morning to come up with a plan of attack to figure out where to look for Killian.

David and Mary Margaret had taken their own bed, Henry had taken his in the loft, and Emma had offered Regina and Robin hers.  They’d weakly protested, but she’d insisted that the couch would be fine for her; she doubted she’d sleep much anyway. 

Now, six hours later, Emma was about to crawl out of her skin.  She _needed_ to be out there looking for the man she loved.

Finally, at long last, dawn came, and the rest of the gang woke and made their way to what functioned as a living room.  There was some discussion of breakfast, but to everyone’s surprise, no one felt the pull of hunger that you would expect after nearly a full day with no sustenance.

Maybe people didn’t need to eat in the Underworld?  That would certainly be a good thing as no one really wanted to venture out too far and risk coming in contact with Cora—or anyone else who might recognize and have less than friendly intentions toward them.  And as for what was in the flat—well, unless you were a fan of moldy bread, milk that looked as though it had soured about three decades ago, or a greenish-slimy _something_ that might once have been bacon, you were out of luck.

“Okay, so what’s the plan for today?” Henry asked, sitting up at the table, looking eager for the adventure the day would bring.

“God willing, we find Killian and get home,” Emma muttered.

“Yes,” Regina said, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair, “but the question remains:  How do we go about that.  We’ve no leads to go on, and we want to stay as far away from Underworld people as possible.”

David shrugged.  “I guess we start by checking out places Killian liked the best.  We try to lie low as much as possible, but we probably won’t be able to avoid everyone.”

Suddenly the magnitude of the task in front of them struck Emma once again.  “But if Gold can be believed, which there’s no way of knowing with that son of a bitch, but if he _is_ telling the truth, who _knows_ what places Killian likes best in this world?  He’s lost his memories so we have no idea where he might be.  We don’t even know _who_ he is.  He could be some boring mild-mannered accountant who’s afraid of water or something for all we know!”

She got up and began to pace, running a hand through her hair.  Her mother came to her and wrapped her in her arms.  “We’ll _find_ him Emma.  We _will_.   One thing I knew for sure is that True Love never dies and it never fades.  No matter who he might be in this world, deep down he’s still your Killian.  He’s still the man who loves you enough to die for you.  It may look bleak now, but we’re _going_ to get him back.”

Emma had always been a practical woman.  Life had never given her any handouts, and she didn’t trust to vague things like hope.  She was far more into realism.  But her mother must be starting to rub off on her, because that hope, that unbridled optimism was starting to return.

“Thanks mom,” she said, returning the hug.  “And damn straight we’ll find him.  I didn’t come all the way to hell only to go home empty handed.”

“That’s the ticket!” Robin said, dropping an arm lazily over Regina’s shoulders.  “But the question remains.  What course of action shall we take to make that happen?”

Emma dropped into the chair beside Henry, and he turned hopeful eyes her way.  “Mom, you’re _great_ at this stuff,” he said.  “You know, tracking people down.  I know that lost year wasn’t really real, but I remember how you used to track down bail jumpers, and you _never_ lost your man.  How hard could it be to track down one heroic pirate?  So, what would you do if finding Killian was one of your cases?”

Emma thought for a moment and then nodded.  “Dad’s right,” she said finally.  “We may not know much about who Killian is here, or what he likes, but until we have a better lead, our best bet is to start searching in places we know _our_ Killian likes.  We’ll probably have to talk to people; it’s unavoidable, but we lay as low as we can—and don’t go anywhere near the heart of town or anywhere else Cora could find us.”

“So where do you suggest we begin the search,” David asked.

“The docks!” Henry suggested.  “Other than mom, Killian loved his ship and the sea more than anything.”

“Good thinking, kid,” Emma said, ruffling his hair.

After a bit more discussion, it was decided that all six of them going to the docks together might be too conspicuous.  Mary Margaret and David agreed to stay at the loft and inform Gold of the plan, should he ever show up again.  (Mary Margaret had big plans to clean the place from top to bottom, hopefully make it livable by the time everyone got home later on.)

Regina and Robin would accompany Emma and Henry to the docks, an arrangement Emma originally protested, stating that four random people showing up on the docks was hardly less conspicuous than six, but the others had been adamant.  Especially now that she was without magic, Emma needed backup to help her watch her back.  No telling what they might run into down here.

And so, an hour after the strategy session began, Emma, Henry, Regina and Robin found themselves walking the wharfs, looking for anyone or anything that might point them in the direction of one Killian Jones.

Emma swallowed down a lump in her throat as she felt the salty breeze whip through her hair, as she heard the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.  The ocean reminded her so strongly of Killian that she ached.  She missed him so damn much it was hard to even function.

“Pardon, could I be of assistance,” came a deep, pleasantly British sounding voice from behind them. 

It sounded so much like Killian, that for one delirious moment Emma thought they’d found him, but when she spun around, ready to throw herself into his arms, she found herself face to face with a man she’d never seen before.  There was something very…similar…to Killian about this man.  He wasn’t overly similar in looks with his curly brown hair and eyes a shade or two darker than Killian’s, but there was just _something_ that reminded Emma of the man  she loved.

“Who are you?” Emma blurted out before she could stop herself.  (“Emma!” Regina hissed from behind her.) It took her less than a second to realize how rude that came out, and her cheeks flushed.  “Sorry, I just mean…”

The man chuckled, and the resemblance to Killian seemed even more striking.  “It’s quite alright, milady.  My name is Bernard, and I’m the harbormaster of this fine town.”

He held out one large, calloused hand, and Emma shook it heartily.  “It’s nice to meet you.  I’m…um…Leia, and this is my son, and…and…some of our friends.  We just moved here, and my…husband was supposed to meet us here.  Can’t seem to find him, though.”

Emma heard Regina face palm behind her, and she cringed at how ridiculous that had sounded.  She’d decided on the spot that giving their real names and their real mission was probably a bad idea, but as they hadn’t come up with a cover story beforehand…well, she did the best that she could under far from ideal circumstances.

Luckily, this Bernard guy didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.  “What is your husband’s name, love?  It’s possible I may be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Killian,” she said.  Good chance that wasn’t what he was going by here, but just how would it look to say she had no idea what her ‘husband’s’ name was?  “Killian Jones.”

Bernard shook his head.  “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.  Could you provide me with a description?  Perhaps I’ve seen him around.”

“He’s tall,” Henry piped up.  “Black hair, kinda shaggy.  Blue eyes.”

Emma fished her phone out of her pocket.  There was no reception down here (Go figure.  What did you expect in hell?), but she could at least get to the pictures on the device.  She scrolled down for a moment until she found her favorite—taken during the six weeks of peace they’d had after Ingrid had been defeated.  She, Killian and Henry crowded together on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ , Killian’s hand outstretched to capture the selfie.

Bernard took the phone and peered intently at the photo.  As he continued staring, his brow furrowed.  “I’ve never seen this man before,” he said softly, almost to himself, “but something about him…it’s like déjà vu; like I _should_ know him.  Strange; very, very strange.”

After a moment, the man shook his head and handed the phone back to Emma.  “I’m sorry, love.  I haven’t seen this man.  I wish you the best of luck in finding him.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, sighing a bit.  She shouldn’t have expected to have success with the first person they ran into, but the dead end hurt nonetheless.  She reached up, grabbed at Killian’s ring which hung from a chain around her neck.

Suddenly Bernard stopped, and peered intently at her hands.  “Where…where did you get that ring?”  He asked, pointing.

“It…it was given to me by my husband,” she said, holding it up for his further inspection.  “Why?”

Bernard held up the ring, turning it this way and that, running a finger along the engraving.  “Incredible,” he said softly.  “It reminds me of a ring once in my possession.  It seems…a lifetime ago.  I…I don’t remember why I had it or where it went, but this is most assuredly familiar.”

And suddenly all the pieces began to click—the voice so like Killian’s, the strong resemblance, all of it.  This was—this _had_ to be Killian’s brother, Captain Liam Jones.  Tears filled Emma’s eyes as she looked up at him—at the man who had had such a profound influence on the man she loved.  She’d never thought to have the opportunity to meet Liam, and yet here he was—him, but not truly him.

“Bernard” seemed to notice her emotion, and dropped the ring instantly.  “Pardon, love,” he said, “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.  It’s just uncanny the resemblance.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said in a watery voice.  Henry looked up at her curiously, but now was hardly the time to explain.  “It’s just…it’s been some time since I last saw my…husband, and I miss him.”

Liam’s face softened.  “I shall be sure to keep an eye out for him, and in the meantime, you might consider going to the Distinguished Gentleman who runs this town.  He may be of some assistance.”

“Distinguished Gentleman?” Regina asked suddenly, “I was under the impression that Cora Mills was the mayor here.”

“Oh, aye,” Liam said. “That she is.  Runs this town rather with an iron fist, I must say, but while she is the mayor, her husband, the Distinguished Gentleman is our benefactor,  owns nearly every property in these parts and is the one who handles complaints and grievances.  If anyone might know where your missing husband is, I’d wager it would be him.”

“ _Husband_?” Emma asked incredulously.  “Mayor Mills is _married_?”

“Aye,” Liam said.  “It was all quite sudden.  Not long after she arrived, the Distinguished Gentleman took her as his wife.  It was all very curious and scandalous, but none wished to speak badly about our town benefactor.  And after all, who’s to explain the caprices of true love?”

They bid “Bernard” a fond farewell—Emma with more than a little reluctance now that she knew his true identity—and then went on their way, deciding to head back to the loft and let David and Mary Margaret know of their discoveries.

They’d no more than gotten out of hearing distance before Regina spoke.  “True Love, my ass!  If I know my mother, and I definitely do, there was nothing remotely like love about it.  More like shameless social climbing.  I’d bet everything I own she got down here, found the most powerful person around and seduced him.”

“You mean…” Robin said, “you think this ‘Distinguished Gentleman’ of whom the harbormaster spoke is…”

“Exactly,” Regina said grimly.  “I’d suggest we keep as far away from the Distinguished Gentleman as we can.  Pretty sure that’s Hades himself.”

“Great,” Emma said, “as though your mom by herself wasn’t bad enough.  Now she’s _literally_ the wife of Satan.”

“Precisely,” Regina said.  “And if the two of them have even the harmless, heroic denizens of society wrapped around their fingers, this might be even more of a challenge than we originally thought.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rumple made his way up the carefully manicured drive in front of the Sorcerer’s mansion as twilight fell on his first day back in the Underworld.  Before he even had the chance to ring the doorbell, the ponderous front door was opened by none other than Mrs. Hades herself.

“Cora,” he said, with an inclination of the head as she stepped back and gestured for him to enter.  “You’re looking well for one among the ranks of the deceased.”

She smiled nastily.  “As the queen of all the dead, death seems to be treating me quite well.  Can’t say the same for you, Rumple, you’re looking decidedly worse for wear.”

Rumple sneered.  “What can I say?  The climate of this hell hole doesn’t suit me—particularly now that I’ve regained the ranks of the living.”

“Of course,” she said.  “Can I get you a drink?  Something to eat?”

Rumple chuckled humorlessly.  “I think not, dearie,” he said.  “This isn’t my first dance with death.  I’m well aware that any mortal who eats or drinks what’s offered in the Underworld may never again leave.  As exemplary as your hospitality is, I’ve no intention to overstay my welcome.”

“How courteous,” Cora said silkily.  “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

“I’d hoped to have a quick word with your husband, dearie.”

Cora gestured forward.  “Of course,” she said, “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.  Right this way; he’s in his study.”

Rumple followed behind, looking with disgust at the opulent and garish furnishings.  Finally, after knocking softly on the door, Cora opened it, and stuck her head inside.  “Dearest, the Dark One to see you.”

A moment later, Hades himself appeared on the threshold, flaming blue hair seeming bigger and more exaggerated than ever.

“Rumple!” he said, huge smile draping his face.  “How ya doing?  Heard you were back, but what’s this about travelling with a rescue party?  Rather rude to attempt to steal souls from the god of the dead, don’t you think.”

“Believe me,” Rumple said with a sneer, settling into the leather chair Hades offered him.  “I’ve no wish to save Killian Jones from whatever hell you’ve put him in.  If it was up to me, I’d personally ensure he rots here.”

Hades clapped him on the shoulder with a quick laugh, before he settled into his chair behind his desk.  “You know, Dark One, this is why I like you.  Man after my own heart.”

“Of course,” Rumple said with a smile that never reached his eyes.

“So if you’re not here to rescue the pirate, what has brought you back to the old stomping grounds?”

“I was coerced,” Rumple said angrily.  “Blackmailed.  And you know full well, I don’t suffer blackmailers.”

“Of course not, of course, not,” Hades said, setting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers.  “Let me guess?  You’ve got a plan to pay back those trying to screw you over?”

“Indeed,” Rumple said, “And that, in short, is why I’m here.  I have a plan that I believe will be mutually beneficial.”

“Yeah?” Hades asked with a mocking grin, a grin that spoke eloquently of the god’s skepticism that Rumple had any kind of deal he might want to strike, “what might that be?”

“You’re running out of time, Hades,” Rumple said nastily.  “What is it?  A month before the stars align and the prophecy says Hercules will defeat you.”

Hades’ fingers stilled and his hair fire burned yet higher.  “How do you know about that?”

Rumple grinned.  “As a Dark One, I have my sources.”

“Fine, fine,” Hades said irritably.  “So some stupid prophecy says I’m gonna be defeated.   Probably just a bunch of nonsense.  Who ever heard of a _mortal_ defeating a god?”

“Who indeed,” Rumple agreed pleasantly, “but are you truly willing to take the chance?”

Hades pushed back his chair and began pacing.  “What’s your point, Dark One.”

“Simply this,” Rumple said.  “I’ve a deal for you that I believe will solve your little prophecy problem.”

Hades shot him a curious look.  “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rumple said.  “What would you say if I were to offer you the ability to amass enough magic to breach Zeus’s barrier?  To take back his medallion and, thus, your birthright?  What if I were to tell you this can all be accomplished _before_ the night the stars align?”

Hades slowly lowered himself back into his chair.  “I’m listening.”

“As you’re well aware,” Rumple said, settling in, “the moon has great effect on magic within earth’s realms.”

Hades looked bored.  “I suppose.”

“And,” Rumple continued, “the full moon—particularly the _blue_ moon holds the highest magical properties of them all.”

“Yes, yes,” Hades acknowledged.

“As you’re further aware, I’m sure,” Rumple said, “the next blue moon is set to occur within Storybrooke in exactly two weeks’ time.  From that night until the night of the moon’s next phase—roughly two weeks—magic within all the realms will be extraordinarily transferrable.”

Hades sat up a little taller, the lightbulb evidently going off in his head.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rumple said.  “I happen to be aware of a location where all the worlds collide, a location, in short, where you can channel all the magic you need to defeat your most hated brother.”

A slow smile spread over Hades’ face.  “I like the way you think.”

“Indeed.”

After a moment a suspicious look came into Hades’ eyes.  “Sounds like a dream come true for me, but what’s in it for you?”

“Simply this,” Rumple said, “I will give you access to every bit of this magic on two conditions.”

“What’re those?”

“First, you give me my revenge,” Rumple said.  “Every living person who knows of my latest return to the darkness—in short, every living person who can alert my wife of my…untruthfulness to her—is here in the Underworld.  I would like to keep it that way.”

“Sorry, Dark One,” Hades said. “The Underworld’s for the dead.  I’ve no place for the living.”

“I’m well aware.  However, life is a temporary condition.  My proposal is that you amass five of your favorite servants.  If they were to, say, _step through_ my enemies, they would take their life forces; they would, in effect _trade places_.”

“Devious,” Hades said with a chuckle.  “I like it, but I believe your math skills leave something to be desired.  What’s this about ‘five’ of my favorites?  If my spies are correct, you brought six live ones with you.”

“Indeed,” Rumple said, “but therein lies my second requirement.  My grandson returns to the land of the living with me, his memory is wiped so that he knows nothing of my treachery, and you make an iron clad promise that whatever happens with your vendetta with your brother, myself, my wife and my grandson are protected from all harm.”

Hades stared at him for a moment, evidently deep in thought.  Finally he clapped his hands together.  “Deal!  Sounds good to me.  There’s just one tiny detail left to discuss.”

“And what might that be?”

“You know how this ‘deal with the devil’ thing goes,” Hades said with a smooth smile.  “I’ve got no choice in the matter.  I make a deal with a mortal?  I’ve gotta take their soul as collateral in case things go…sideways.  But you, of course, are immortal now, and beyond that…well, not quite sure you even _have_ a soul anymore.”

“That would be a bit of a problem,” Rumple said dryly.

“Not really,” Hades said.  “No trouble at all to …modify the deal a bit.”

“You will not come near my wife or my grandson’s souls,” Rumple growled, believing he saw where this god was going.

“Come _on_ , Dark One,” Hades said with a wave of his hand.  “What do you take me for?  I’m not after your precious wife or grandson.  No, my demand…my collateral in case this all blows up, you know…is, let me see….your first born son.”

Rumple chuckled.  “My first born son?  Really?  You know full well that Baelfire is now enjoying eternal bliss in Elysium.  No god, no matter how many realms he possesses can dislodge a soul from his final resting place.”

“So he is, so he is,” Hades said with a cunning grin, “so the price should be pretty painless, eh?”

There was something about the way Hades said it…something about his smug tone.  It put Rumple on high alert.  There was something the god of the dead was holding back.  Still…the fact was unescapable.  There was absolutely, positively, without any doubt whatsoever _nothing_ Hades could do to Baelfire now.  His firstborn son was completely safe.

After one more moment of indecision, Rumple nodded.  “You have a deal.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Hades said waving his hand and catching up a long contract and a fountain pen within it.  “All that’s left, then is for you to sign on the dotted line.”

Rumple took up the pen and signed with a flourish after which Hades got to his feet.  “Well, Dark One, it’s an absolute _pleasure_ doing business with you.”

_Notes:_

_\--Sorry about the REALLY long chapter, but there was a lot of ground to cover in this chapter!_

_\--So there you have it, the rest of Rumple’s devious plan.  Could be, though, that he’ll eventually come to realize it was a really, really bad idea to sign on that dotted line without reading all the fine print…_

_\--In other news…Emma got a chance to meet Liam…and he recognized his ring, even if he didn’t really understand_ why _he recognized the ring.  Could be there will eventually be a reunion between the brothers Jones.  (By the way, you may have noticed, I’ve decided to not get overly creative with the Underbrooke residents’ cursed names.  Basically, everybody just gets the first name of the actor/actress who portrays them.)_

_\--Up next: Long ago in the Enchanted Forest, Megara goes to desperate lengths to save the man she loves, but along the way, she learns a valuable lesson about giving away your heart without due reflection.  In the present, the gang regroups and tries to come up with their next steps now that they know of the strange stranglehold Hades has over the town.  Meanwhile, we meet back up with Colin and see just how well Hades’ newest dose of memory-loss water is working, and Rumple and Hades begin plotting their evil plan in detail._


	8. Chapter 8

_Enchanted Forest several years ago_

For several heartbeats after the Evil Queen poofed away with Michael there was complete and utter silence in the town square.  Then suddenly everyone seemed to speak at once.   The bulk of the sentiment seemed to vacillate between fear of the queen and the further vengeance she might exact and relief that it was the peddler—an outsider—who’d been singled out for execution.

Meg, herself, spent more than a few moments rooted to the spot in utter horror.  One moment she was blissfully happy helping her true love sell his wares, laughing and jesting and stealing quick kisses…and then then next he was in the Evil Queen’s clutches and she was vowing to execute him in little more than twenty four hours.

But as the shock slowly wore off, the determination set in.  Michael was the only person who’d given a damn about her in nearly a decade.  She’d thought she was happy on her own; she’d thought she was complete; she’d thought life was better off that way.  If you only relied on yourself, after all, no one would disappoint you.

And then she met Michael, and it was like…it was like she was finally seeing the sun after living a lifetime knowing nothing but cloudy skies.  He was everything she didn’t realize she wanted.

So was she just going to sit around and wring her hands like a damsel in distress while he was in mortal peril?

Not a chance in hell!

As the villagers continued to buzz and gossip and make fools of themselves, Meg quietly walked away, not stopping until she reached the small, thatched-roofed cottage she called home.  She sat heavily on her bed as she wracked her brains for anything that might help her lover.

It looked like the impossible task.  The Evil Queen was the most powerful being in the Enchanted Forest—save for Rumplestiltskin, of course, and the rumor was that he was in Camelot at the moment—how could Meg hope to make even the slightest difference confronting her?

No, Meg couldn’t confront her herself; what she needed was someone even more powerful than the Evil Queen.

And then it hit her.  _Not a chance in hell_.  Why not appeal to the Underworld?  It was said that Hades occasionally stooped to help mere mortals, and who was more powerful than a god?  Granted, it was also said that Hades often exacted nearly impossibly steep prices for the favors he did, but what did that matter?  No price was too steep to pay to get her true love back.

Having decided on her course of action, Meg started out immediately.  It was a good half-day’s walk to the Temple of the Gods, and obviously time was of the essence.

Three hours later, having moved as quickly as was humanly possible, Meg found herself staring at the huge, ponderous doors leading into the temple.  For a moment she almost lost her nerve.  This was a big deal.  A really, really big deal.  She was contemplating going to the god of the freaking _Underworld_ and making a deal!  That was… _insane_!

But then she thought of Michael.  Of his sunny smile, of his addicting kisses, of his praise and extravagant compliments, of his vows of love and devotion.

It didn’t matter what happened to her.  She _had_  to save him.  She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open, stepping inside before she could lose her nerve once again.

It was a large open room, lit only by the fires that blazed along the walls next to the shrines set up to every god imaginable.  Meg moved past them quickly, ignoring their intricate mosaic designs and beautiful sculptures.  She was interested in one shrine and one shrine only. 

Finally, she found it in the far corner—the shrine of Hades, god of the dead.  A large, life-like statue stood prominently displayed—a man in a long robe, with hair that seemed, even in its stone state, to sway and undulate like flames.  Meg tore her eyes from the statue and glanced at the wall behind it, out of which a shelf holding a large bowl and smaller covered urn protruded.  A plaque of gold, identifying Hades and providing a paragraph or two about the god, sat above the shelf.  The plaque concluded with instructions for contacting Hades, should he deign to be disturbed.

After reading all the instructions carefully, Meg stepped up to the shelf, reached into the urn , grabbed a handful of the dust within, threw it into the large bowl, and then lit it from the nearest lamp.

“Hades, I summon thee,” she said in a loud, clear voice.

After a moment, there was a puff of smoke, and then the statue began to _move_.

“Hi there; name’s Hades,” the statue said with a cheesy grin and an extended hand.

Meg jumped at the sound, her heart racing, but after a moment, she steeled herself and stepped forward, taking the statue’s extended hand.

“It’s a great honor,” she said as deferentially as she was able.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” the Hades statue said with a dismissive wave of the hand.  “So what can I do for you?”

“I desperately need your help!” Meg said quickly.

“Thus the reason you summoned me,” Hades statue said dryly.  “So what’ll it be?  You want me to turn your enemy into a toad?  Make the village hottie fall in love with you?  Make it so your terrible parents finally _understand_ you?  Curse the village mean girl with puss-filled boils all over her face?  Believe me sweetheart, I’ve heard it all.”

“Nothing like that,” Meg hastened to say.  “I…I want to save the man I love.  The Evil Queen has captured him and plans to execute him in little more than twelve hours!  I can’t lose him!”

The Hades statue rolled his eyes.  “You went to all this trouble to summon me over a _man_?  You want me to stoop to a rescue mission.  Trust me, doll, human men…they’re scum.  This Michael guy?  Bet you anything he’s just after that proverbial one thing.  Far better off without ‘im.”

“Please,” Meg begged.  “He’s not like that!  I have to save him.  I’ll do anything!  Just help me save him!”

“You do realize how this whole ‘deal with the devil’ thing works, right?” the Hades statue said.  “I do something for you, you pay with your immortal soul, collectable whenever I damn well please?”

“Yes,” Meg insisted, “I’ll pay it.  I’ll do anything!”

The Hades statue looked at her for a moment and then shrugged.  “Suit yourself; your funeral.  Literally.”

A moment later, there was another puff of smoke and then the Hades statue was holding a small, red stone.  He extended his arm offering it to her.

“So here’s the deal,” the Hades statue said.  “Go to the Evil Queen’s castle.  This stone will protect you from any harm.  Make your way to the dungeons where your lover is being held.  Throw the stone to the ground before his cell and say his name three times.  Just like that, poof!  He’ll be free, and the Evil Queen will forget she ever planned to execute him.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It worked like a charm.  Meg couldn’t believe how _easy_ it all was.  She’d literally walked into the Evil Queen’s castle, broken her lover out, and walked right back out—all without a _single_ guard giving her a second glance.

There were definite benefits to having a god on your side!

Michael had taken one look at her, thanked her, and then kissed her senseless.  Overwhelmed with relief, with love, and with mounting desire, Meg had done something she’d never yet done.  She invited Michael to spend the night; to share her bed.

It had been indescribable, cataclysmic, a moment that changed her whole life.  And as Meg fell asleep in the circle of Michael’s arms, her head pillowed on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart, she knew instinctively that this night, this beautiful act would change everything.

As it turned out, it did…only not in the way Meg had expected.

She’d woken in the morning with stars in her eyes, prattling on excitedly about the night before, about their whole lives that they had in front of them.  At first, in her incredible joy, Meg had missed the fact that Michael was far less enthusiastic in his responses.

It was only when she shared with him the decision she’d made the previous night, that she’d finally realized that something was wrong.

“So last night after, you know…” Meg said, blushing furiously at the images even obliquely bringing it up brought to mind, “I kind of made a decision.”

“Aye?” he’d asked.  “And what was that, lass?”

“There’s nothing for me in this village anymore, Michael,” she’d said.  “I have no family here, no real friends.  The only time I’m truly happy is when you’re in town.  So, why should I stay here?  I’ve decided I want to be with you.  Always.  I’ll travel with you, live with you, be your helper and lover…maybe even become your wife one day.”

Michael stiffened, and slowly backed away, his brow furrowed and his eyes looking anywhere but at her.  Finally, he spoke in a strangled voice.  “Lass…the life of a travelling merchant is far from easy.  I couldn’t possibly subject you to that…”

She rushed toward him, taking his face in her hands.  “You’re not ‘subjecting’ me to anything!” she insisted.  “Don’t you understand?  It’s the life I _want_.  The life with _you_.”

He’d reached up and pried her hands from his face, putting them back at her sides.  “I’m sorry, it just can’t happen.”

“But why?” she’d persisted.  “ _Why_ can’t it happen.  We love each other, and after what happened last night...why _not_ be together?”

Michael took a deep breath and slowly let it out, turning so he was facing away from her.  “Look, we’ve had fun together.  I can’t deny I find you alluring, but you were never supposed to get attached.  What happened last night…that’s all this was ever supposed to be.”

She tried once more.  “Why are you saying this?  I _know_ you love me!  I know what we have is special!”

He turned toward her then, annoyance clear on his handsome features.  “Why do you insist on making this difficult?  I tried to be gentle, but now let me be blunt.  You are not the only one.  I’ve a girl in nearly every village, and a wife waiting for me back home.  My dalliances are nothing but that.  Dalliances.  When the lasses become too attached…it’s best for all concerned that the ties be cut.  I appreciate what you did in saving my life, but this, our sordid little affair, must come to an end.”

Meg’s legs gave out as she watched him walk purposely out of her front door and out of her life.  She’d given everything to and for him.  She’d given her immortal soul to the devil to set him free, and now he was walking away?”

She’d gambled everything, and she’d lost it all.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_The Underworld, present day_

Colin leaned back in his leather desk chair, took off his glasses, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the growing headache.

This had been a day out of a writer’s nightmare.  For hours at a time he’d done little else but look at that damned curser on his blank computer screen.  No matter what he did, the words simply _wouldn’t_ come.  He just didn’t understand it.  Over the past few days his muse had been busy, active, relentless.  The words had flowed from his fingertips like water from an open tap.  Scene after scene had come together almost without him having to think about them.

And then today.  He couldn’t seem to write so much as a sentence.  He hadn’t been worth a damn since his visit from the Distinguished Gentleman the night before. 

He didn’t understand.  He simply didn’t understand.  He’d utilized every writing technique he’d ever learned.  He went back and reread previous scenes.  He consulted his copious outline.  He tried to just push through and write through the block.  He got up, walked around, looked at the sea, _everything_. 

But it was as though he couldn’t even _remember_ what he’d planned to write.

Finally, exhausted, he’d decided to take a nap.  And that’s when _she_ came to him again, his beautiful, elusive blonde muse.  He only caught a glimpse of her; it was as though she was shrouded in mist and fog, but the glimpse was enough.  He couldn’t see her face, but he knew, he just _knew_ what he would find there if he could see it.  _Love_.  Pure, true, unconditional love.  She believed in him, she trusted him, she was insistent about seeing the best in him no matter how little he might deserve it.

When he’d awoken, so had his inspiration and he’d returned to his computer with a new lease on life, as it were.

_I sat alone at my favorite table on Granny’s patio, flask in hand.  It was more than clear to me that Swan was vexed, but I couldn’t for the life of me understand what I had done to incur her wrath.  Had she believed I was_ consorting _with the Snow Queen when she found us in that clearing?  Surely not.  It would seem my boots incased in ice would put a lie to that supposition._

_What then could be the problem?_

_Before I had the chance to continue pondering the cause of my girlfriend’s discontent, the woman herself came bursting out of the diner, her face screwed into lines of distinct displeasure._

_“Swan,” I flirted, trying to defuse the tension, “don’t make a man drink alone.”_

_She didn’t even pause, merely charging forward, charging away from him.  “Not in the mood for a drink.  Or a man.”_

_I was wrong, she wasn’t merely vexed, she was bloody furious.  Best I clear up this situation before it blew up into a storm outside of my control.  I got to my feet and hurried after her.  “Sorry I didn’t listen to you today,” I pleaded.  She continued, not even slowing.  “I know you feel like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, but at some point, even though we’re quite different, you’ve got to trust me.”_

_She stopped in the middle of the road, planted her feet and turned toward me.  “You think that’s what this is about?  That I don’t_ trust _you?”_

_“Is that not what it’s about?” I asked._

_“Of_ course _I trust you!”_

_“Then why do you keep pulling away from me?”_

_“Because everyone I’ve ever cared for is dead!” she said vehemently._

_It stopped me in my tracks.  Here we were coming to the root of the problem, and the pain on her lovely features nearly brought me to my knees._

_“Neal, Graham.  Even Walsh,” she continued, her voice slowly morphing from angry to agonized.  “I lost everyone.  I…I can’t lose you too.”_

_And suddenly it all made sense, the walls she still had erected around her heart, the way she pulled away from me, the fact that she showed me affection, but would never truly let herself fall for me.  She was afraid, so desperately afraid._

_It wasn’t that she felt too little for me, but far, far too much.  My love for this woman surged, tenderness beyond belief.  I’d do anything for her, anything at all.  The least I could do was reassure her.  “Well love, you don’t have to worry about me,” I said, stepping closer and dropping my voice.  “If there’s one thing I’m good at; it’s surviving.”_

_She gave me a tiny, watery smile, and it was all the encouragement I needed.  I surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss suffused with all my pent up passion, my longing, my aching love.  As she eagerly responded, quickly wrapping her arms around me and running her fingers through my hair, it didn’t matter that we were quite literally in the midst of the main street of town where anyone could see.  It didn’t matter if all the Snow Queens and villains and monsters of all the realms were after us.  All that mattered was her, us, and the fact that come what may, we would survive it.  Together._

Colin put the period at the end of his sentence and then leaned back once more, feeling an odd, distinctly unpleasant sensation bubble up from deep within him.  Regret.  Shame.  Guilt. 

What was happening to him?  He’d finally gotten his inspiration back and he’d completed a scene—a good scene; a romantic scene; a scene he knew instinctively that his devoted readers would love.  Shouldn’t he be feeling the pleasant thrum of satisfaction running through his veins, not this…bone deep sadness?

_I broke my word; I failed her_.

The thought raced through his mind like wildfire.  It didn’t matter that he had no idea who the _her_ was or the circumstances surrounding his failure; it was an absolute conviction, one he could not shake.  He’d _failed_ her.  He’d promised to be a survivor, promised not to leave her like all the others, but in the end he’d gone back on his word.  He had _died._

That thought brought him up short.  _He’d DIED?_   What the hell kind of thought was that?  He sat here at his computer every bit as alive as he’d ever been, yet he was feeling guilty for _dying_ and leaving the woman he loved to mourn him?

Perhaps he’d do well to venture out and find a therapist who could help him, because clearly he was losing his mind.

No sooner had the thought surfaced than something inside him shoved it viciously aside.  No, he _wouldn’t_ seek out a therapist!  That would entail leaving the safety of his house, and that was something he was not bloody going to do under _any_ circumstances.

Colin breathed deeply, slowly letting the breath go, trying desperately to calm his frayed nerves.  What had gotten into him today?  First a gigantic case of writers’ block, then aching guilt over _dying_ and leaving an unknown woman behind?  _Nothing_ made sense today.

As his heart slowly returned to its normal speed, and his usual mild-mannered calm returned to him, Colin gradually became aware of another sensation. 

_Pain_.

He felt a stabbing pain along his neck, the sensation of blood dripping down, pouring from an open, gaping wound.  Lifting his hand, he pressed against the spot.  His fingers didn’t come in contact with an open wound, but the skin was raised and puckered, still tender to the touch.

_What the hell?_

He surged to his feet, stumbled into his bathroom, flipped on the light switch and peered into the mirror.

Where just this morning was smooth skin, now resided an ugly red scar.  A flash of…something  (Imagination?  Memory?  Dream?) flitted through his mind. 

_He lay amid a field of pink flowers, his lovely muse hovering over him.  Agony covered her face and she cried steadily, vowing to save him, vowing to fix this._

_“Come on!” she pleaded, “what about our future?”_

_“I’ll…just be happy…knowing that…you…have one” he said, each word taking more effort than the last as his life seeped slowly from him._

The vision cut off then, but the pain remained—both the physical pain from his neck, and the emotional agony of failing her, of leaving her.

Colin leaned over the sink, hand and stump braced against the basin, and hung his head.

“I’m sorry, love,” he muttered, beyond caring how nonsensical he might sound.  “I would have done anything to ease your pain, but I failed you.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Emma sat up quickly, breathing heavily, the tears rushing to her eyes.  “No!”

“Emma?  Honey are you alright?” Mary Margaret asked from her perch in the (marginally cleaner) kitchen.

Emma squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing the tears away.  She took a deep breath, got to her feet, and then turned toward the others.  “Yeah,  I’m…well, as good as can be expected.  It’s just…this place, this whole situation is hell.”

“Literally,” Regina muttered under her breath.  Mary Margaret shot her an irritated look, before wrapping her arms around Emma in a motherly hug.

“I know, Emma, I know,” she crooned.

When she, Regina, Robin and Henry had returned to the Underbrooke loft several hours before, they’d filled in her parents on what they’d learned—and Emma had revealed the true identity of “Bernard” the harbormaster.

Henry had been excited at the information.  “That was Uncle Liam?” he’d asked, jumping up and coming toward her.  “Killian’s brother?  The one who taught him all about sailing and everything?”

Emma felt her heart squeeze pleasantly at his use of the term “Uncle Liam”.  She had every intention of making the relationship official as soon as they got Killian out of this hell hole.  The thought of marriage…well, even as late as Camelot it had freaked her out, but not now.  Not anymore.  There was no question any more.  She wanted to live the rest of her life with him, and she was more than ready to make it 100% official.

“Yeah, that was Captain Liam Jones,” Emma said, through a slightly tight throat.  “The fact that he has no memory…that even down here Killian can’t be reunited with his brother…I can’t even describe how much that sucks.”

“Don’t worry Emma,” David had said bracingly, “once we find Killian and, you know, bring him back to himself, we can take him down to the docks for a reunion.  It might be…difficult seeing his brother but not _really_ his brother, but it’s got to be better than nothing.”

Regina sighed dramatically.  “We can plan all these happy or bittersweet or whatever reunions later,” she said, “but right now, we’ve got bigger issues.  You did happen to hear the part about my mother being the wife of Hades?  About how he’s got the whole damn town wrapped around his finger?  About how he’ll probably know our _every_ move five seconds after we make it?”

“Yes, Regina, we heard,” Mary Margaret said.  “We’ll….figure that out, but we’ve gotta focus on whatever moments of hope we can find down here or we’ll go crazy.”

Emma had yawned deeply, nearly swaying on the spot as the adrenaline of the day’s excitement started to drain.

“You okay, Emma?” David asked, his hand held bracingly on her arm.

“Yeah,” she said, “just…tired.  I didn’t exactly sleep last night.”

“Why don’t you go take a nap?” her dad asked, indicating the couch.  “Finding Killian is turning into a marathon rather than a sprint, and you need your rest if you’re going to be ready for whatever comes our way.”

Emma wanted to refuse, wanted to push forward, wanted to get started on the next plan of attack, but she knew her dad was right.  If she didn’t get some rest, she wasn’t going to be worth crap in the inevitable fights they’d find themselves in before this was all over.”

She sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair, and then nodded.  “Yeah, maybe I will.  At least for a few minutes.  But let me know if anything changes.”

“You can count on it.”

Emma had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, her sleepless night and recent emotional upheaval finally catching up to her.

It had been the dream that woke her.

_Killian…but not quite Killian_ _sat before a computer, typing away.  He looked different, entirely different, in his khaki pants, plaid shirt and stylish glasses.  She watched as he pushed away from the computer, hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose._

_Suddenly he stopped, his hand shooting to his neck—to the very location he’d been nicked by Excalibur—and gasped._

_Emma felt the resulting pain in her own neck, a shooting, stabbing pain._

_She followed him into the bathroom as he examined his newly-examined scar, his eyes widening in obvious shock.  He dropped his head, breathing hard.  After a moment, he spoke softly, so softly that Emma almost missed what he said:_

_“I’m sorry love.  I would have done anything to ease your pain, but I failed you.”_

She woke with the agony of his voice sitting heavily on her heart.  “No!”

“Are you sure you’re alright, mom?” Henry asked ten minutes later after Emma had seated herself around the table with the rest of the rescue party.  “You keep rubbing your neck.”

Emma dropped her hand back to her lap.  “Yeah…” she said slowly.  “It’s just.  It was a dream or…something.”

“What was it about?” Henry persisted.

She looked around the table, stopping on her parents.  “I…I saw Killian.  I don’t know where he was, I couldn’t really see the house, but, he was a professor or a writer or…something like that.  He was working at a computer.  Then his…his scar on his neck…you know, from when _it_ happened?  Well, it came back, and he grabbed at his neck, like he was in pain.”

She stopped there, not sure how to put the rest into words.

“What is it, honey?” her mother asked gently.

“It’s just…when that happened…I felt it too.  _My_ neck started to hurt.  Still does, to be honest.  It was like…like I could _feel_ his pain.  Literally.”

Emma saw her parents exchange a knowing look.

“What?”

Mary Margaret reached across the table and took Emma’s hand.  “I’m not sure that was just a dream, Emma,” she said gently.

“What do you mean ‘not just a dream’?” Emma asked.  “What else would it be.

“True love has a way of…connecting people,” Charming said.  “Long ago when your mother ate the poisoned apple?  I was miles away, trapped in a dungeon, but even so, I _felt_ it when your mother went under the sleeping curse.  I felt it in my heart.”

“So you think my dream really _happened_?” Emma asked.

“Who can say?” Mary Margaret said.  “But I think it’s more likely than not.  And if that’s the case, that’s a really, really good thing!”

“Why do you say that, grandma?” Henry asked.

Charming answered.  “Because if you got a glimpse of Killian, if you’ve got a kind of _tether_ to him, then we finally have something to go on!  We know he’s okay…maybe his neck hurts, but he’s okay.  We also know we’re looking for someone who’s a writer or researcher or something like that.  It might not be much, but at this point I’ll take all the leads I can get!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“So, we’ve got a plan,” Hades said, rubbing his hands together.  “Gotta tell you, Dark One, you weren’t exactly my favorite person there for a while.  Only person ever to make it back to the land of the living after I had a hold of ‘em.  But with this big evil plan of yours?  You’re back in the running for my favorite person.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rumple said with a sneer.

Okay, maybe not _that_ far up in the running.  This guy needed to lighten up and stop being so bitter all the time.

“So what now?” Hades asked, settling into his couch with an arm around his bride.  “We just sit around and wait for the blue moon?”

“I’d suggest we be a little more proactive than that,” Rumple said, taking his own seat across from the Underworld power couple.

“Proactive?” Hades asked with a laugh, “what for?  Things are definitely going our way.  Why expend more energy than we have to?”

“Simply this,” Rumple said.  “You would be a fool to discount the power of True Love.  One false move from Miss Swan or from _Hook_ , and this whole thing blows up in our face.”

Hades laughed again.  “You worry too much, Dark One.  I’ve got Killian hidden away so well, they’ll never find his pirate ass, let alone employ True Love’s Kiss, or any such nonsense.”

Cora reached over, and placed a hand on his arm.  “Dearest,” she said, “it would be unwise to dismiss Rumple’s concerns out of hand.  I’ve personally witnessed the strength of True Love within that family.  I’ve personally seen how determined and driven the good captain can be when motivated by love.  And as for Miss Swan…she’s a formidable foe.  I’d caution you not to underestimate the Savior.”

Hades looked over at his wife and saw the…concern and distaste beneath her cultured words, and it made him uneasy.

“Fine,” he spat.  “So what do we do?  Kill her?”

Cora shook her head.  “I’ve been observing their love, and I’m not entirely convinced even death could stop them.”

Hades felt his hair flare.  Could _nothing_ just be easy?  Did _everything_ have to be this big fight and struggle? 

“So, we can’t kill her; what’d’ya two suggest we do?”

“I suggest we add a little…insurance to make sure they don’t find each other, and if they do…Miss Swan has even more hoops to jump through,” Rumple said with a nasty smile.

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” Hades groused.  “Why does everyone speak in riddles?  Why can’t anyone just _say_ what they mean?  Make life a hell of a lot easier!  Why can’t you just…”

“I mean,” Rumple said quickly, effectively cutting off what was shaping up to be an hour-long tirade, “love is Hook’s greatest weakness, and his greatest motivating factor.  If we were to…massage circumstances so that he falls in love with someone else…”

“You think that would work?” Hades asked, sitting up eagerly.  “You think we could find someone down here to make him forget his True Love for the savior for good?”

“Not forever,” Rumple cautioned.  “True Love is the strongest force in the realms.  But, if we were to see that another love was kindled, it might just buy us enough time to set our plan into motion.”

“I like it!” Hades said.  “It has style.  Only question is, who’s the poor unsuspecting broad who’s going to be our pirate’s diversionary love interest?”

Rumple grinned again.  “Oh I have the perfect candidate, and let’s just say, I can almost guarantee her success.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--So there you go.  Meg’s “true love” turned out to be a womanizing lech, and now she’s stuck without her man and with her soul in Hades possession.  Emma and Killian are able to feel and sense each other even across distance and memory loss—giving Emma her first clue as to Killian’s profession, and Hades and Rumple have decided to play matchmaker._

_\--Up next:  Long ago, the fates come to Hades again, and give him the rest of the prophecy of his downfall, during which he learns of his minions’ failures where Hercules is concerned.  This does not please him.  This does not please him at all.  In present day Underworld, Rumple meets back up with the rest of the Underworld gang, and he suggests a new place to search for Killian.  Emma meets another familiar (well, not to her, but to other characters…) face, and Rumple sneakily starts putting “Operation Find the Dirty Pirate a Love Interest That Isn’t Miss Swan” into motion._


	9. Chapter 9

_Underworld several years ago_

Hades plopped down into his favorite easy chair with a satisfied sigh.  Altogether it had been a successful day.  The afterlife was good.  The afterlife was really good.

“Hey Hades,” Pain said as he barged his way into Hades’ devil cave, “how’d it go today? Have fun without us? 

“Cause any havoc?” Panic added.  “Break any hearts?  Stir up any unfinished business?”

Hades rolled his eyes.  They were like yappy little dogs set on annoying the hell out of their master.  He sighed again, knowing they wouldn’t give it up until he gave them the attention they so obviously craved.

“Had someone call on me in the temple of the gods,” he said.

“Really?” Pain asked?  “What happened?   Did you get a new soul?  What happened?  Huh?”

“If you’d shut up and let me tell the story you’d find out what happened,” Hades said with exaggerated patience.

“Okay,” Panic said, “We’ll shut up.  Zipping our lips right now.  No more talking.  None at all.  You’ll forget what our voices sound like before all is said and done.  Not another word.  Mum’s the word.  Well, that is another word, but we promise to be quiet.  We…”

“Enough!” Hades thundered, his hair flam burning a bright blue.  “A god can’t hear himself _think_ around here!”

Pain put his fingers to his mouth and pantomimed turning a key.  Panic, meanwhile pantomimed digging a hole, in which Pain tossed the “key”.  They both made a big production of covering the “hole” over.

Hades wasn’t entirely sure this much eye-rolling on his part was good for his ocular health.  “Guys,” he said slowly and deliberately, “my stance on mimes is well-known.  What is that stance?”

“You hate them,” Pain said.

“You think there should be something worse than hell to toss them into,” Panic added.

“Exactly,” Hades said with a little nod.  “And what did I do to the last mime that ended up down here and tried to entertain me with his trade?”

“Uh,” Pain said, “You put him in a ball and used it to play fetch with Cerberus until the mime was so dizzy he couldn’t walk straight for a week.”

“Yeah,” Hades said.  “And do you want the same fate to befall you?”

“No,” they both said in unison.

“Then can it with the stupid play acting!” Hades yelled, getting in their faces, his hair nearly scalding their bald heads.  “Just…and don’t talk about it, don’t act it out, just do it.  Just shut the hell up!”

Their eyes got wide, they gulped, and then nodded once, finally, blessedly falling still and silent.

“That’s better,” he said, taking his seat again.  “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…I got a call from the temple of the gods.  This heartbroken dame with your typical story.  ‘Oh woe is me!  My boyfriend is about to be done in by the Evil Queen!’  If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times.  Anyway, I knew good old lover boy was bad news.  I just know these things.  Got a special sixth sense for it.  Knew she was about to get her poor, tender heart broken.  So you know what I did?”

He looked at them expectantly, but both stayed resolutely mum.  “Well?” he thundered.  “Do you?”

“Um…” Pain said.  “I’m confused.  I thought we were supposed to be shutting up?  Now you want us to talk?”

Hades rubbed at his aching temples.  “I think the fact that I asked you _a direct question_ kind of implies I want you to speak.”

“’kay!” Panic said.  “No.  What did you do?”

“I gave her exactly what she wanted,” Hades said with a nasty grin.  “Gave her all she needed to save lover boy’s life….at the cost of her immortal soul.  I give it a day, two days tops before Mr. Perfect reveals his true colors and breaks her heart.  Then I’ve got her!”

“And what?  You’ll bring her down here to be another servant for you?” Pain asked.

“Nah,” Hades answered.  “Don’t need new servants now.  Timing is everything, you see.  The longer she stews about her lost soul, the more desperate she becomes.  You know how it is with desperate souls?  They’ll do anything to get out of their plight.  Might be I could use her help with something up there on earth someday.  That happens, all I’ll have to do is swoop in all reasonable and everything, and she’ll be putty in my hands.  I tell her I’ll make a new deal with her—she does my bidding and I give her her soul back—and she’ll do whatever I want.”

“Then you’ll give her her soul back?” Panic asked.

“Of course not,” Hades said with a wave of his hand.  “What do you take me for?  She belongs to me for eternity.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Pain said. “deliberately lying to someone.”

“Um, hello?” Hades said, “I’m the devil.  ‘Not very nice’ is kind of my job description.”

There was a sudden disturbance in the hallway, and a moment later the butler appeared at the door.

“The Fates here to see you again, sir.”

Hades felt his heart drop, and his hair fire burned down so low it nearly went out.  Nothing good came from a visit from those broads.  _Nothing_.

But he’d learned the hard way long ago that they literally _never_ went away until you listened to their spiel.  Nothing for it; he’d have to hear them out.

“Very well,” he said in a small, resigned voice, “let them in.”

The three biggest banes of his existence glided in almost soundlessly, not stopping until they surrounded him in a half circle.  They lowered their hoods, revealing their stunning beauty—as well as their freakishly light eyes—and began speaking.  (And really?  It wasn’t bad enough they’d come to give him a prophecy, now they had to present it in surround sound?)

“We’ve come to you, o magnificent Hades with a prophecy,” they said as one.

“Yeah,” he said, “strangely enough I kind of figured that one out on my own.”

“Your time of triumph is swiftly drawing to a close,” they continued.  “The stars will align in five years’ time.  And when the stars are in alignment for the first time in a millennium, your defeat will be upon you.”

“Always such rays of sunshine,” Hades muttered under his breath.

The Fates continued on as though he’d not spoken.  “Hercules _will_ rise up and fight for his birthright.  He will be aided by one who has willingly embraced death—and then defeated it, by those who share a true love strong enough to transcend time, space, realms, even death itself.  Their combined victory will be a wonder to behold, and you will be cast down into the depths of hell, where you will keep company with those who wail and gnash their teeth.”

“Seriously?” he asked, throwing his hands up.  “You had to go all melodramatic with the whole ‘wailing and gnashing of teeth’ thing?  Sometimes less is more, ladies; sometimes less is more.”

“You may laugh now,” they answered in unison, “but this prophecy _will_ come to pass.”

“Alright,” he said, “well thanks for letting me know and everything, but I think you’re a little off your game today.  You see, _dead_ people, _human_ dead people don’t exactly rise up and fight gods for their birthrights.  I think you might have missed that little bit from, oh, nearly two decades ago when my henchmen turned Hercules mortal and then killed him.”

“Oh great Hades,” they answered.  “You are the one who is deceived.  Neither is Hercules fully mortal, nor is he dead.  He failed to drink the last drop of potion.”

With that, they tugged their hoods back up and glided out of the door.

Hades felt a sudden, intense sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Surely they had it wrong.  Surely they were mistaken.  Pain and Panic assured him the deed was done.  Surely…

He turned toward his minions and saw them slowly easing toward the door, guilty looks draping their ugly faces.

“Pain!  Panic!” he thundered.  “Get your worthless asses over here!”

They gulped in unison, and then moved forward.

“Yes, your most merciful evilness?” Pain said.

“Cut the crap,” he yelled.  “ What the Fates said….want to explain yourselves?”

“Not really,” Panic muttered.

Hades yelled so loud the windows started shaking.  His worthless servants cowered.

“Want to try that answer again?” he asked.

“Well, see,” Pain said, “it was like this.  The kid wouldn’t drink the potion.  Just wouldn’t drink it!  Then when he finally did…well, he was almost done and these mortals came by and we kind of freaked out.”

“And…” Panic continued, “well, the bottle kind of smashed, and we tried to get that last drop, we really did, but it got soaked up in the ground and… we just thought, you know, _mostly_ mortal was probably good enough anyway.”

“And of course,” Pain said, “we couldn’t really kill him at that point because of the whole ‘partly immortal’ thing.”

_Imbeciles_!  They were complete, utter and total imbeciles!  All that work, all that planning, down the drain because a couple of failures at afterlife couldn’t kill a single newborn baby!

Hades went off on them for a good half-hour in a tirade so foul his most hardened devil would have blushed, after which he punished them with a month-long stint in the very bottom of the ninth ring of hell—where traitors to their lords and benefactors went—and he made sure the demon guards put the two of them in the most awkward, uncomfortable positions possible before encasing them in ice.

It was a good two days before Hades calmed down enough to think rationally again.  Okay.  All was not lost _yet_.  He still had five years to escape fate.  All he had to was find a way to neutralize and destroy Hercules—well, that, and make sure no acts of true love went down in his realm.  And as for the whole “embraced death and then defeated it” thing?  Yeah, well the fates were just full of it on that one.  Pretty safe bet there’d never be a human being to fit _that_ description.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Emma sat on the couch in the apartment holding Killian’s ring, turning it over and over in her hands, running her fingers over the stone, the engravings.  Somehow she felt closer to him when she held the ring.  She felt like he was near, like they would be reunited soon, that she’d soon be able to take him home with her.

It was only an illusion, of course.  Despite the tiny “breakthrough” that morning with her tapping into his feelings, “seeing” him in her mind’s eye, they were really no closer to finding him than they were when they got to this stupid place.  At least she knew he was okay.  She sensed he was lonely and confused, but at least he wasn’t in pain, being actively tortured.  If he could just hold on a little longer, they’d find him and she’d fix this whole huge mess she’d set into motion all the way back in Camelot when she’d forced him to become a Dark One.

The thing was…the same problems remained.  They had no real idea who or where Killian was.  They needed to go out and start searching again, which would, of necessity, involve interacting with Underbrooke residents, but they couldn’t trust _anyone_ down here, no matter how well meaning.  They couldn’t take a chance word of their presence would leak to Cora and/or Hades.  It was an _impossible_ situation.

As for herself, Emma couldn’t care less what happened to her.  Cora and Hades wanted to rain down all of hell on her?  Bring it.  But she wasn’t the only one involved.  If the Underworld power couple found out their plans, they’d be pissed, and Emma _couldn’t_ take the chance that they’d take out their anger on Killian—or even worse, on _Henry_.

The fact was, they needed a breakthrough.  They needed _something_ to happen to show them the direction they needed to turn.

There was a knock at the apartment door.

Emma surged to her feet, her hands balling into fists, ready to fight.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her parents, Regina and Robin take up similar stances.  She had no idea who could be visiting them here, but it was a fair bet it was no one friendly.

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

“Should we answer that?” Henry whispered from the far side of the room, where Regina had shoved him to safety as soon as the knock sounded.

The knocking became banging.

David shrugged.  “I guess we better.  Doesn’t seem like they’re going away.”

He walked slowly, cautiously to the door, putting one hand on the knob and the other on the hilt of his sword.

“Who’s there?” he asked menacingly.

“Who do you think, Dearie?” came Gold’s voice from the other side of the door.  “Not a lot of people who know you’re here, are there?”

Emma relaxed…but only slightly.  A visit from Gold was likely only marginally better than one from Hades himself.

A frown crossed David’s face, but after a moment, he flipped the lock and opened the door.  Gold walked in confidently.  He looked around the loft with sardonic amusement.  “Is this really the best you could do?”

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” Regina spat, arms crossed, eyes flashing.  “It’s been nearly two days, Gold.  _Two days_.  And not a word.”

“Why Regina, I didn’t know you cared so much about my safety,” he drawled.  “Quite touching really.”

Regina growled.  “I don’t give a damn about your safety,” she bit out.  “But I do care about ours.  If you were out there selling us out, so help me, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” he asked, “snark me to death?  Because, dearie, in case you didn’t notice your magic doesn’t work here.  Only the darkest of magic—only Dark One magic works here.  I’d think long and hard about threatening me.”

Regina opened her mouth, clearly ready to show him that her tongue could be every bit as sharp as any two-edged sword, magic or no magic, but Robin stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“How about you start talking, tell us what you’ve been up to, and then we’ll decide whether or not to threaten you,” Emma said in a hard voice.

A quick flash of anger came and went in Gold’s eyes, and then he schooled his features into a look of unconcern.  “It’s just as I said, Dearies,” he answered.  “I’ve been in search of items, magical or otherwise, that can aid us in our quest.”

“And?” Mary Margaret asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Alas, my search has been fruitless,” Rumple said, stepping further into the apartment and taking a seat at the kitchen table.  “I’d hoped to find a locator spell within the Underworld version of my shop, but I was met with quite the obstacle.  My father now runs my shop.  He was, shall we say, less than willing to provide me the assistance I needed.”

“Pan’s here?” Henry asked worriedly.  “Peter Pan’s here too?”

“That he is, Henry,” Gold said with a nod, “but you need not fear.  I have no intention of letting Pan or anyone else harm my grandson.”

“I must admit to being a trifle confused,” Robin said.  “You’re the _Dark One_.  Do you not have the power to force a shop owner, no matter how nasty, to your will?”

“Of course I do,” Gold sneered, “but are you really ready to commence open hostilities with the locals?  We take that plan of action, how long do you think it would be before Hades would commence open hostilities against your precious pirate, Miss Swan?”

Emma took a deep breath and then let it out.  “Yeah, you’re right,” she said finally.  “Last thing we need to do is start pissing people off.  Here’s the thing, though.  Checking your shop and getting turned away would have taken you an hour, two tops.  What’d you do during the other day and a half you’ve been away?”

“I’ve been scoping the situation, looking for leads,” Gold said smoothly.

Emma’s lie detector blared to life.  He was keeping something from them.  Something big.  There was _something_ he distinctly didn’t want them to know about his whereabouts, and Emma found it suspicious as hell.

“No,” she said angrily.  “You’re lying to us.  Where have you been?  Where have you _really_ been.”

To Emma’s confusion, Gold didn’t answer.  Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out something that looked like a chipped piece of china of some kind, and waved it through the air, pausing briefly when it was pointing at each of them.

Emma felt a pleasant floating sensation, and then she came back to herself.  What had she been thinking?  Something about Gold lying?  Where the hell had _that_ come from?  She knew perfectly well Gold would never lie to them!

“Sorry,” she mumbled.  “Not sure what came over me.  You said you were looking for leads?  Come up with anything?”

“As a matter of fact I did,” he said with a nasty grin in Emma’s direction.  “I happened to find a blast from Hook’s past.  The woman he stole from me.  _Milah_.”

Emma felt her heart stop, and then race.  _Milah_?  The woman Killian had loved so desperately he spent centuries trying to avenge her?  It had never occurred to Emma that they might come in contact with the woman who’d had such a profound effect on Killian’s life, but now that she thought about it, it made sense.  If anyone would have unfinished business, it would be Milah—and a good bit of it no doubt had to do with the son of a bitch standing in front of her right now.  Nothing much more “unfinished” than being brutally murdered by your spouse.

“Yeah,” Emma finally said slowly, “she might actually be a really good lead to check out.  As much as she and Killian loved each other, if _anyone_ has deeply buried memories of him, it would be her.  Maybe if we show her his picture, it’ll, I don’t know, jog something inside of her, prompt her to lead us in the right direction.”

Gold’s nasty grin melted into an incredulous look.  What?  Did he think she’d be _jealous_ of Milah?  That the two of them would have some sort of a catfight over the man they both loved?  What were they?  Back in high school?  Emma didn’t have time for petty jealousy, nor did she begrudge the man she loved his past.  It had helped to make him the man he was, the man she could no longer live without.  If Gold thought to get under her skin in this way, he had another thing coming.

“So?” Emma went on, when it was clear Gold wasn’t about to continue.  “Where’d you find her?  What’d you learn about her?”

Gold continued to look confused for another moment, and then he finally answered her.  “She works as a crossing guard at the elementary school.  Goes by the name Rachel here.”

“Perfect!” Mary Margaret said after a quick look at her watch.  “School ought to be letting out soon.  If we leave now, we’ll probably be able to catch her just after she finishes for the afternoon.”

“Works for me,” Emma said.  “Alright, Gold.  Lead the way.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Excuse me,” Emma said, stepping up to the crossing guard, “we were wondering if you could help us.”

Milah turned, giving Emma a polite smile, her long, dark hair, pulled up into a pony tail, swishing with the motion.  “What can I help you with,” she asked  “Are you here to pick up a child?”

“No, nothing like that,” Emma said.  “I’m just…well, I’m looking for someone.  I know he’s in this town, but I haven’t been able to locate him yet.”

“Oh?”  Milah asked.  “Who is he?”

Henry stepped forward.  “His name’s Killian, and we were hoping maybe you knew him?”  Impulsively the boy stuck out his hand.  “I’m Henry, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, Henry,” Milah said with a smile.  “My name’s Rachel.  And this Killian…is he a friend of yours?  Your age?”

Henry laughed.  “I guess you could call him a friend, but he’s more of a step-father.  And no, he’s much, much older than I am.”

‘Rachel’ shot Emma an amused look, and then glanced aside, appearing to think carefully.  “Killian…” after a moment, she shook her head.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone by that name.”

Emma nodded, reaching for her phone.  “I kind of thought that might be the case, but maybe you know him by a different name.  Here’s a picture of him.  Maybe…maybe you’ve seen him?”

The other woman glanced at the screen for long moments, her look unreadable.  After staring for what felt like years, Rachel touched the screen, as though caressing the picture it showed, and then handed it back with a slight shake of her head.

“He seems…familiar,” Rachel said softly, “like someone I _should_ know, but I’m sorry.  I don’t know him and I have no idea where he might be.”

The disappointment hit Emma hard, and she couldn’t avoid the small waver in her voice when she responded.  “Are you…are you _sure_?  Maybe if you look again.  It’s…I can’t tell you how important it is that I find him.”

Rachel shook her head sadly.  “I really am sorry.  I wish I could help you.”

Emma’s shoulders fell.  “Thanks for trying and…it was nice to meet you.”

Rachel nodded, and Emma started to turn away.  She was stopped by the other woman’s voice.  “If I ever come across him, I’ll be sure to tell him you were looking for him.”

Emma shot her a smile.  “Thanks.  I really appreciate it.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rumple stood back a step and watch in no little bemusement as the two women in Hook’s life met for the first.

To say it wasn’t the meeting he was eagerly anticipating was a significant understatement.  While, he’d expected Miss Swan to refrain from acting with outward hostility, her utter lack of anger, jealousy threw him completely for a loop.  There’d been a bit of, which, he supposed, was only to be expected given the circumstances, but that was all.  No ill will at all, it would seem.

It was utterly unaccountable…and utterly disappointing.  He still needed to bide his time for another two weeks before he was able to openly get his revenge on his enemies, but he’d hoped with this meeting to twist the knife a bit, to cause Emma Swan pain.

It would seem he’d failed.  What kind of love was it that took the meeting of a lover’s ex in such stride?

_The kind of love you’ve never felt_ a snide voice inside of him spoke.  _A selfless love; a love that only wants the best for the beloved, something you’re entirely unfamiliar with._

Rumple frowned, determinedly pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside.  He had work to do if he was going to secure his happy ending and end the threats against him once and for all.  There would be plenty of time for introspection when he was home with his wife and grandson.

Speaking of the work he needed to do….Rumple patted the thick book in his satchel, and then the tiny bottle in his pocket.  Best he get to it. 

Stepping up to Emma, he stopped her with a hand to her arm.  “Wait here for a second,” he said.  “I need a moment with Milah.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Why?  What are you up to?”

“Up to?” he asked in an aggrieved voice.  “Nothing at all.  I merely wanted a moment with my deceased wife.  Perhaps I wish to…apologize for my part in her demise.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed yet further, a hard, angry look coming to her face.  “Your part…you mean like ripping out her heart and crushing it?”

“Yes, something like that.”

Emma looked at him for another moment and then shook her head.  “Yeah, sorry, not buying it.  You’ve been acting shady since we got down here to this damn town.  What are you really up to?  Why do you really want a private moment with Milah?  Because Gold, if you’re trying to double cross us…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Gold said, reaching into his pocket once more for the enchanted chip, “you’ll tell my wife just how terrible I am and make my life a living hell.”

Carefully, he flashed the chip before her, making sure her eyes landed on it before returning it to his pocket.  Her eyes unfocussed and then returned to him.  A look of blank confusion settled on her features.  It was a shame he hadn’t thought to sprinkle the Sands of Avalon on a larger item.  The smallness of this chip seemed to render it’s effect far shorter than desirable.  Still, it did seem to do its job when employed.

“Would you mind waiting here while I go have a quick word with Milah?” Gold asked again.

“Um..sure,” Emma said, after a moment.  “Why would I have a problem with that?”

Rumple smiled and turned aside, quickly taking the book from his satchel and pouring the bottle of potion over it.  He certainly had high hopes that merely seeing each other again would be enough to rekindle the old flame between Hook and Milah, but he was taking no chances.  His mission was simply far too important to leave to mere chance.

No, in the event Hook’s True Love bond with Miss Swan truly was strong enough to surpass the pirate’s last great passion, he needed a bit more assurance.  With that thought in mind, he’d obtained a vial of amortentia, his strongest and most effective love potion yet. 

It was a simple matter really.  He’d give ‘Rachel’ the book—a brand new, hardcover unabridged dictionary, and ask her to take it to the famous writer Colin Delamer with the “Distinguished Gentleman’s” compliments.  And should ‘Rachel’ refuse?  Well, there was always the enchanted chip.

Within the hour Rachel and Colin would be madly in love—or at least infatuated enough with each other to keep Colin away from Miss Swan long enough for Rumple to enact his plan.

“Excuse me, Rachel, was it?” he said, stepping up to her.  “I wonder if you might do me a small favor.”

Rumple felt satisfaction fill his system.  Things were proceeding precisely according to plan.

 

_Notes:_

_\--So Hades now knows of Hercules’ continued existence—and continued god-hood, and Pain and Panic are pretty high on his “people I want to torture and maim” list.  Meanwhile, Rumple successfully manipulates Emma and the gang and sets the first phase of his plan into motion._

_\--I know everyone’s eagerly waiting for the CS reunion…and it’s taking forever to happen, but I promise, Emma will eventually find him.  In fact, the next person the gang meets up with in their quest to find Killian will actually have some useful information for them!  (So basically…have patience.  I promise I will do my best to make the wait worth it!)_

_\--Up next: We meet back up with Hercules, now around 20 years old, in the long, long ago section.  He learns a disturbing secret about himself, and sets off on a quest to find the answers he’s always wanted.  In the present day section, ‘Rachel’ brings ‘Colin’ the love-potion drenched dictionary.  Will he react the way Rumple expects?_


	10. Chapter 10

_Underworld, present day_

_Well that was the most vivid dream yet_ , Colin thought to himself as he levered himself out of bed and endeavored to start the day.

_He’d dreamt that he was thrown into the sea by an angry woman with…tentacles?  He’d been unconscious.  He knew he must fight, must swim to the surface, but his body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t respond to his command.  As the cold salt water began filling his lungs and he began to be desperate for oxygen, suddenly he was pulled to the surface by…a mermaid._

_She’d maneuvered him onto his bunk in the captain’s quarters of his ship, and then when he’d woken, she’d delivered a sharp slap to his face—one he instinctively knew he deserved.  She’d proceeded to remind him that if he wished to have his happy ending, he must go about getting it in the right way—as a hero rather than a villain._

_The next thing he remembered, he was in some sort of a cabin with the blonde woman, his muse, the light of his life.  Still her face was a blur, but her beauty was undeniable_

_As was her relief._

_She’d been concerned about him; worried when he didn’t arrive as expected.  After he’d done…whatever it was he’d done next, she was proud of him, beaming at him like he hung the sun in the sky.  (Ridiculous that, she was the sun, bright and brilliant, shedding light and warmth on all she met.  She’d melted his frozen heart, pulled him from the cold dark winter he’d lived in for more years than he could count.)._

_But still, worries marred his joy.  It was perfect here and now with her, but there was an absolute, immutable fact of life that he must face sooner or later._

_“With all of this talk of authors and the book,” he said hesitantly, “we’ve never discussed one fact. I was a villain.”_

_Her face softened, and her voice was like a caress. “But you’re not anymore.”_

_He wished it put him more at ease._

_“Neither is Regina, but she still lost her happy ending,” he said, putting voice to the fears that had been plaguing him for days now, “If we’re to believe the rules of the book, then it’s only a matter of time before I lose mine.”_

_“Wait,” she said suddenly.  “If you’re afraid of losing your happy ending, that means you found it.  What is it?”_

_Did she not know?  Could she really not see?  “Don’t you know, Emma?” he said in a voice near to breaking with emotion, “It’s you.”_

_Her eyes widened, and he could read the emotions as they passed over her face—surprise, shock, disbelief, joy.  For long moments she merely stood there, and then, ever so slowly she leaned in, closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his.  They moved together, speaking the words neither was yet ready to voice in the only way they knew how.  Her lips met his, and he poured every ounce of his love into the kiss._

_It was heaven, utter bliss.  If he hadn’t been sure before, he certainly was now.  This, this right here was what a happy ending felt like._

When he’d woken, he’d slowly, almost reverently touched his mouth, swearing he could still feel her soft, sweet lips moving against his.

It was strange.  He never used to remember his dreams.  He would pass long, peaceful nights of calm and silence.  Now…his dreams were vivid, exciting, endlessly emotional.  In them, he was a man of action, a man accustomed to fight for what he wanted, to fight for those he loved. 

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets._

He had no idea where the thought came from, but he felt it like a firm conviction.  But had Colin ever fought for _anything_?  Had he ever had anyone he cared about—who cared about him enough to fight—to even be willing to die—to promote their good?

He didn’t think so.  For as long as he could remember he’d been solitary, an author, a man who spun adventurous tales where the hero fought through nearly impossible odds and in the end defeated the villain—sometimes on his own, sometimes with the help of his lady love.

For years (or so he thought?  Time seemed odd…almost non-existent lately) he’d been content living within his imagination.  He may be careful never to leave the confines of his comfortable home, but his soul was free to soar.  As his fingers moved across the keyboard he could be anyone and anything he wished—a knight, a hero, a naval lieutenant, even a pirate.

But lately, in the last few days, a strange restlessness had come over him.  It no longer seemed sufficient to live the adventures vicariously.  He wanted to be a hero in reality, to be courageous and strong, to find a woman like the one in his dreams and fall madly, passionately in love.  He wanted to _live_. 

If only he could leave this house.

He sighed as he sat down at his desk and rubbed at the scar on his neck—a scar he still didn’t remember receiving.  It was all just a pipe dream.  Wish as he might, he knew full well that he could never leave; the consequences would be catastrophic.

There was nothing for it; he’d best do what he excelled at—spin other men’s stories.

He booted up his computer, and opened up his latest manuscript in a word document.  He read over the last few paragraphs and then nodded in satisfaction.  He’d been looking forward to writing the coming scene for a long time.

He’d finished yesterday’s writing session on a bittersweet note at best.  Peter Pan cast the dark curse over Storybrooke, threatening to make the citizens of the town into his own personal slaves.  The only way to stop it was for Regina, the Evil Queen, to destroy the curse she’d cast creating Storybrooke in the first place.

Colin had written the heartbreaking scene as his protagonist had said goodbye to the woman he loved, vowing to think of her every day, and then watched her drive away.  She’d escaped the curse, but she’d lost her memories of her family, the man who loved her, everything that was _true_ in her life.

Funny how compelled he was lately to write about memory loss spells and things being quite different in reality from the way they appeared.

At any rate, today was the day Colin cancelled out the bitterness with a healthy dose of sweetness.  Having learned that the magical shield was down and transport between realms was once again possible, Hook had made a desperate deal and found a way to get back to the woman he loved.

Now he must find a way to restore her shattered memories.

Colin wrote steadily, detailing Captain Hook’s arrival at Swan’s New York apartment, his failed True Love’s Kiss, his subsequent attempts to get her to listen to him.  He’d just reached the moment Swan decided to take a leap of faith and drink the memory potion, when suddenly there was a knock on his door.

Two visitors within the space of a week?  This was truly extraordinary, unheard of.

Curious, Colin got to his feet and walked purposefully toward his front door.  He opened it to reveal a lovely woman—long, curly dark hair pulled up in a ponytail, bright blue eyes, tentative smile.

Colin was quite sure he’d never seen this woman before in his life.

She stood silent for long moments, looking at him carefully, with furrowed brow.  Finally he broke the silence.  “Can I help you, love?”

His question seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she’d been in.  She shook her head lightly, and blinked.  “Sorry,” she said.  “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” he asked blankly.  “What’s the occasion.”

“I really have no idea.  All I know is it’s from the Distinguished Gentleman,” she said.  “I was asked to deliver it to you.”

With that, she reached into her bag and produced a large, ornately decorated book.  “It’s a dictionary, I believe.  Not the most original gift for a writer, I suppose, but it is a rather beautiful book.”

“Aye,” he said, “looking down at the offering.  “That it is indeed. And a dictionary may not be an original gift, but it’s much appreciated none-the-less.  I must confess to finding dictionaries quite fascinating.  They are…”

He took hold of the book, and for a moment they both held it—she on one side and he on the other.  The moment his hand touched the leather binding, the strangest sensation went through him—like a wave of warmth blanketing his whole person.  If the look on the woman’s face was any indication, she felt it as well.

And suddenly pictures, disjointed visions began dancing through Colin’s head.  He saw this woman dressed as a peasant sitting across from him at a tavern, listening as he told exciting tales of adventure.  He saw her dressed as…a pirate, sailing the seas.  He saw her broken and in pain as he held her close.

With the visions came a quick barrage of feelings—tenderness, love, fascination, pain, loss, anger, and finally—acceptance. 

What was happening to him?  This woman was a stranger to him.  Where was this sea of feelings coming from?

“Eh…” he said finally, reaching up to scratch behind his ear.  “Pardon love, but…do we know each other?”

She gave him a long look, and it was several moments before she spoke.  “No,” she said softly.  I don’t believe we do, but…I almost feel as though we’ve met, as though we were once…close.”

“Aye,” Colin said, “just so.  Would…would you like to join me for tea?”

“I would be honored,” she said, stepping inside as he gestured forward.

Over the course of the next two hours they talked like old friends as they sipped at their tea.  He learned her name was Rachel and she’d worked as a crossing guard at the elementary school for as long as she could remember. 

“And do you enjoy your job?” he asked.

“Yes…” she said carefully.

“But?” he prompted.

“But, nearly every day I have the strangest sensation,” she said, “like I’m _missing_ someone.  In my mind I can see him—a small boy with curly brown hair and brown eyes.  He looks at me sorrowfully as though I’ve betrayed him.  I can’t understand it, but I wish…I wish there was some way to make it right.”

She was silent for a moment and then laughed self-deprecatingly.  “I must sound crazy!”

He shook his head.  “Not at all,” he answered.  “I know what it is to…have the strangest sense of _connection_ with one who resides only in my head.  For me…it’s not a feeling of regret or sorrow, but rather of longing, of love.  It’s a woman I see—blonde, green-eyed, beautiful.  I wish to be with her once again.  A ridiculous thought, that.  After all, how can one be with someone _again_ when he’s never been with her to begin with?”

She shook her head.  “Do you ever get the impression that things are somehow…I don’t know, not quite _right_ around here?”

He chuckled.  “All the time, love, but even more so in these last days.  I feel a strange restlessness, as though something monumental is on the cusp of happening.”

“That’s it precisely,” Rachel agreed.  “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“I must say,” Colin went on, “I’m quite happy you paid me a visit.  Knowing someone else sees the peculiarity—it assures me I’m not crazy.”

“Or at least you’re not crazy _alone_ ,” she qualified.

They laughed together, and then she got to her feet.  “I really should get going,” she said, “but thank you for the tea and conversation.  It was nice meeting you.”

“You’re quite welcome,” he said, walking her to the door.  “It’s always nice making a new acquaintance.  Feel free to stop in again sometime should you wish to discuss our collective madness.”

“I’ll do that,” she said with a grin. 

Rachel walked down his porch steps, and then stopped, turning abruptly back toward him.  “You know, your description of the woman you dream of?  The one you long for?”

“Aye.”

“It reminds me of something,” she said.  “Yesterday this woman came up to me at the end of my afternoon shift.  She looked like what you described—blonde, green eyes, beautiful.  She had a teenager with her—boy by the name of Henry.”

“Aye?”  Killian asked uneasily.  _Henry_.  The name of his protagonist’s true love’s son.  Very odd coincidence that.

“Yeah,” Rachel continued.  “The really weird thing is she was looking for someone.  A man.  She showed me a picture, and I didn’t realize it until just now, but…the picture looked an awful lot like _you_.”

“Me?  This mysterious woman was looking for _me?_ ”

“I think so,” Rachel said. 

Colin took a deep, ragged breath.  A mysterious blonde with a teenaged son was looking for him?  Was it merely a coincidence…or was something else at play here?

“Um…” he said, feeling his heart begin to pound.  “Well, if you happen to see her again, feel free to send her my direction.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Held by Pain on one side and Panic on the other, Rumple found himself unceremoniously “escorted” into Hades’s private sitting room when Cora sat calmly and the god of the dead paced in evident agitation.

“You called for me?” Rumple asked with a sneer.

Hades stopped pacing and glared, evidently so angry the steam nearly poured from his ears.  “Yeah,” he thundered.  “I think it’s about damn time you explain yourself, don’t you?”

Rumple calmly took a seat across from Cora and crossed his legs, being careful to never let the smirk slip from his face.  “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,” he said.  “Maybe you should enlighten me.  And while you’re at it, you might consider showing a little bit of common courtesy—such as, for example, not sending your thugs to drag me bodily into your presence.”

Hades’s hair fire shot to the ceiling, and his eyes bulged out as he told Rumple off at roughly the decibel level of a jet taking off.  His tirade was, indeed, so loud the chandelier hanging above the coffee table in the center of the room began to rattle in a most precarious manner.

Pain and Panic ducked for cover underneath a sofa on the far side of the room, but Rumple remained unmoved.  If this buffoon believed he could intimidate the _Dark One_ , he had another thing coming.

“Dearest,” Cora said softly, when Hades finally stopped for breath.  “Maybe you should attempt to calm down.”

“Calm down?” he bellowed.  “Why the _hell_ should I calm down?  This incompetent _fool_ bungled his mission.  Completely!”

“Careful,” Rumple said, mocking smile sliding from his face.  “I don’t suffer anyone—mortal _or_ immortal to impugn my character and my abilities.”

“Oh and just what are you going to do about it?” Hades said, getting in his face.  “Getting a little too big for your britches, aren’t you _Dark One_?”

Cora intervened once more, placing a calming hand on her husband’s arm.  “If you don’t calm yourself you’re going to make your blood boil.  Not only that, but if you continue to yell this loudly you’ll shatter another chandelier, and I grow tired of replacing them.”

“Fine!” he shouted before taking a deep breath and then moving to sit beside her.  “I’ll calm down, but this fool _will_ explain himself to me!”

Rumple rolled his eyes.  “Just what am I supposed to explain?”

“Do you know what I’ve had Pain and Panic doing over the past day?” Hades asked.

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Rumple drawled, “but if it was anything more intellectually challenging than sitting in a room and twiddling their thumbs, I’d wager you’re highly displeased with the result.”

Pain peaked his head out from his hiding place under the couch.   “Hey!”

“As it happens,” Hades said, “they succeeded far better than you did.  I’ve had them camped out beneath one of Colin Delamer’s shrubs all day long, keeping watch on his meeting with Rachel.”

“And they were scarred for life after witnessing the pair in a passionate embrace, is that it?” Rumple asked.

“No!” Hades thundered.  “Not even close!  Rachel showed up, gave him the dictionary, spent a couple of hours in companionable conversation with our author, and then left.  Neither of them ended up even the slightest bit smitten!  Tell me, Dark One, how does that happen?”

Rumple’s eyes widened in spite of himself.  “I have no idea.  She was his grand passion, and that dictionary was bathed in the strongest love potion in all the realms.  They should be holed up in his bedroom for the next week straight!”

“Yeah, well, they’re not,” Hades said.  “Not so much as a smooch.  You sure you didn’t grab the ‘indifference potion’ rather than the ‘love potion’?”

Cora got to her feet and glared at both of them.  “Enough!  If Rumple used his strongest love potion and ‘Colin’ and ‘Rachel’ ended up feeling nothing more than pleasant regard, then we’ve got an even bigger problem on our hands than we originally thought.”

“Yeah?” Hades asked worriedly, “and what exactly is that?”

“There’s only one reason a love potion completely fails this badly.  That _only_ happens when the one who takes it is already so deeply and truly in love with someone else that their heart can no longer even contemplate wavering.  It would seem Hook and Emma’s love is stronger than we’d believed.”

“Sounds like ‘true love stronger than death’ to me,” Panic said cheerfully.  “Hey, that’s part of the prophecy about your defeat, isn’t it?”

Hades roared, and Pain and Panic high-tailed it out of the room. 

“Now, now,” Rumple said, with a placating motion of the hand.  “There’s no need to…well… _panic_.  All is certainly not yet lost.  There’s only a week and a half left before the blue moon.  We’ve only to keep Miss Swan and the pirate apart for that long, and the success of our plan is assured.”

“Well…that is true,” Hades conceded.

“Milah was only an insurance policy anyway,” Rumple continued.  “After all, no love is strong enough to defeat the dark curse in less than two weeks.  Fear not, Hades.  Our plan is still very much on track.”

_Notes:_

_\--I just wasn’t feeling the Hercules back-in-time story today, so I decided to push that off to chapter 11.  Besides, the “Colin and Rachel” meeting and the Hades freak out took nearly as many words as an average chapter._

_\--So, love potion or no love potion, Rumple’s matchmaking scheme fell through.  (I really have no interest in cheap love triangles—and I’m so invested in Captain Swan by this point that I don’t have any desire for either one of them to fall for someone else—even while cursed.  Of course I couldn’t tell you that ahead of time, though, because where would be the drama in that? Lol.)  “Colin” clearly has warm feelings toward “Rachel”, but it doesn’t go beyond that.  Why?  Because Killian’s moved on.  He’ll probably always love Milah, but he’s gotten over her and fallen in love—an even stronger love—with someone else._

_\--Also…it’s always fun when villains’ plans end up having the opposite effect than they intended.  Because Rumple sent Milah over to Killian’s, he now knows that a blonde woman with a teenage son is looking for him.  Milah now knows where Emma can find the man she’s looking for—and can tell her if she ever runs into her again.  So…Rumple actually kind of paved the way for Emma to find Killian. :-)_

_\--Up next: This time we really will meet back up with Hercules.  He sets out on a quest to find out who he truly is, and he meets someone quite familiar to all of us.  In the present time period, the gang meets up with one more person in the Underworld—someone who actually has some very useful information in their “find Killian” venture.  They’re about to have a major breakthrough!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Enchanted Forest, a few years before the first Dark Curse_

“Now don’t forget, boy,” the large, bad tempered man growled under his breath, “this is _the_ most important night of our lives.  If we get hired on as musicians at the castle, we’ll be set for life.”

“I _know_ Papa,” twenty-year-old Hercules said, only narrowly avoiding rolling his eyes.

The older man stopped and eyed Hercules for long moments, scowl firmly planted on his face.  “I hope you do, son,” he said ominously.  “Because if you screw this up for me…”

“I _know_ ,” Hercules reiterated, more than a touch of annoyance in his voice.  “If I screw this up for you, you’ll do all kinds of terrible things to me.  But, Papa, I’m _not_ going to screw this up!”

“Is this like the time you weren’t going to screw up the gig in the town square?” Papa asked, in a voice heavily laced with sarcasm. “or is it more like the time you weren’t going to screw up our stint with the band of wandering gypsies.”

Hercules sighed heavily.  “How long do we have to keep bringing up the gypsy incident?  I was _ten_ -years-old.”

“Ten-years-old you may have been, but it didn’t stop you from utterly destroying the gypsies’ carriage by pushing it over the side of a cliff.”

“That was an _accident_!” Hercules growled.  “I was trying to _help_.  The horses broke free and the heavy cart was about to run down a little girl.  I just wanted to _save_ her!  I didn’t mean to push the whole thing over the cliff!”

Papa rolled his eyes again.  “With you it’s _always_ an accident.  You never _mean_ to do any of the things you do, but I’m still left to bear the brunt of the consequences.”

“Well it won’t happen this time,” Hercules vowed.  “I’ll be sure not to disturb _anything_ until we are awarded the job of official castle minstrels.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The pair trudged on, Papa walking confidently in front and Hercules trailing behind, assorted lutes, fiddles, flutes and other instruments slung on his back.  In the distance, Hercules spied the magnificent curtain wall surrounding the castle belonging to…well, he couldn’t remember exactly which noble it was they were approaching today.  They’d tried _so many_ over the years.

Hercules frowned to himself.  The fact was, he couldn’t absolutely guarantee he wouldn’t have another mishap at the approaching castle.  Things just seemed to _happen_ around him, quite without his intent.  Even if things did go…awry, he hoped they’d get a good solid meal (and possibly a place to sleep) out of the bargain.  It was beginning to turn cold, and Hercules didn’t fancy another night spent outside with no shelter from the elements.

From as far back as he could remember Hercules was just… _different_.  He never quite fit in with the other village boys.  Part of it, of course, was the fact that his papa was an absolute charlatan.  He’d worm his way into a castle or a village square or some other venue with large crowds, and he’d bleed the people dry.  He’d lure them in with lovely songs, and then he’d somehow convince them to part with all their gold.

It wasn’t the type of thing that made them many friends.

But Hercules’ feeling of isolation went deeper than that.  He’d always had this feeling that he just didn’t belong.  Sometimes he’d have fanciful dreams of a beautiful place filled with clouds and love and happiness.  A man and a woman…who were somehow _more_ than a mere man and a mere woman…beamed down at him while he slept, talking about how happy they were he was there.  His dreams normally involved all manner of fanciful things—a Pegasus, a man with wings on his heels who could _fly_ , magic, happiness.

Despite the odd, whimsical nature of the dream, Hercules was always unaccountably sad when he woke.  Somehow it felt like he belonged in his dream world more than he did in the real one.

It didn’t help that he was cursed with super-human strength.  From the time he was a tiny lad, he’d possessed more strength than your average fully grown man.  Mama used to tell him it was a gift; that it made him special.

But Mama had died many years ago, and with her the last bit of acceptance and encouragement he had.  No one else saw his strength as a gift—more like a curse.  When villagers discovered it, they treated him as a freak and tended to keep a more-than-healthy distance.

Not that he could really blame them.  Hercules quite literally didn’t seem to know his own strength.  It had led to all manner of mishaps and destruction.

Well, it _wasn’t_ going to happen today.  He knew what a boon it would be to be employed at a castle—to have a home and regular meals and a stipend besides.  He wasn’t going to ruin it with a bout of his normal clumsiness.  He just wasn’t.

He would keep his hands resolutely to himself, using them _only_ to hand his papa each instrument as he needed it.

This was going to be their big break!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Big break” may not have been a bad way to describe it, as it happened.  Only…well, it was the Duke’s magnificent great hall that ended up broken, not Hercules and his papa’s streak of bad luck.

It had been an absolute disaster!

As in an epic, colossal, disaster the likes of which hadn’t been seen in the Fairy Tale realm in years.

Things had started out splendidly.  His papa had sung a full set of songs carefully written for this particular audience, and from the hearty applause the songs generated, Hercules would say Papa’s efforts were quite well received.

Then the accident had happened.

Trying as hard as he could to stay out of the way—and as far as possible from the near occasion of destruction, Hercules had taken a further step back into what he hoped were the shadows—only he’d miscalculated.  Instead of leaning against the cool, stone wall, he stepped directly into the huge, roaring fire in the hearth.

Hercules yelped when the flames licked at his person, and then jumped quickly away…but the burning sensation didn’t subside.  Turning his head, Hercules noticed the seat of his pants smoking merrily.  Naturally, he dropped to the ground, rolling from side to side, hoping to smother the flame.

But of course trying to smother a flame with flammable material—such as the perfumed rushes that covered the great hall floor—often has its own problems.  Hercules succeeded in getting rid of the fire on his own person…but in the process it transferred to the floor, which, of course, threatened to make the entire castle go up in flames.

Papa was just coming to the climax of his most impressive song when those in the crowded great hall began to be aware that the smoke they were smelling was not merely coming from the hearths along all four walls.

It started as a whispered buzz, and then built up into a crescendo of panic as nobles and servants alike began getting to their feet and surging for the great hall door.

Hercules, for his own part didn’t know _what_ to do.  All he knew was that he had to keep the flames from spreading.  Noticing the abundance of wooden dining tables throughout the hall, he pushed them aside—an act that sent them sprawling into the crowd of panicked people—and into the opposite walls.

The result being…broken dishes, brilliant tapestries torn off walls, a beam in the middle of the great hall cracking and falling askew.  In short, total chaos and destruction.

After long moments of absolute confusion, a couple of quick-thinking servants had doused the flames with buckets of water and gradually the crisis came to an end.

To say the lord of the castle had been displeased was an understatement.  The fact that Hercules and his papa had made it out of the castle with their lives intact was a minor miracle.

Now, half an hour—and a good mile and a half later, the two hapless minstrels finally slowed their headlong run and stopped for breath.

Hercules bent at the waist, hands resting on his knees and just gulped in air for long moments.  When he’d finally quieted his lungs’ screaming demands for oxygen, he slowly straightened, turning worried eyes in his Papa’s direction.

He grimaced when he saw the expression on the older man’s face.  Papa had turned beat red, a vein in his forehead pulsing viciously.  His jaw was clenched, and fire shot from his eyes.  Hercules knew nothing good was coming for him.

“You…you…” Papa stuttered.  “You _absolute_ blithering pile of complete uselessness!  What did I say?  What did I warn you about how important this venture was?  Huh?  Are you daft as well as useless?”

He went on for long moments; Hercules merely putting his head down and weathering the storm.

“Well?” Papa finally barked, breathing hard after his tirade.  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Hercules turned his head to the side and shrugged.  “I…I’m sorry, Papa.  It wasn’t my intention…”

“ _Wasn’t your intention!!!”_ Papa thundered.  “It’s _never_ your intention is it?  And yet now here I am!  Thrown out on my ass yet again.”

Papa took a deep breath, and then nodded decisively.  “Fine,” he said in a far calmer tone than he’d employed this far.  “Fine, I give up.  I’m done.  You can just be about your way.  I don’t need your particular brand of _help_ any more.  Just…just be gone!”

Hercules’ eyes widened and he stared at his papa in disbelief.  “You’re…you’re kicking me out?  But Papa!  I’m your _son_!”

Papa’s eyes narrowed and then he chuckled humorlessly.  “Yeah, here’s the thing,” he said.  “I promised the wife I’d keep the secret for her.  She had this weird obsession with ‘treating you like our own flesh and blood’; with making you feel welcome in our family.  But now, well, even your saint of a mother wouldn’t begrudge me letting the truth slip.”

A cold chill went down Hercules’ spine at his papa’s oblique words.  “Just what secret have you been keeping, Papa?”

“That I’m _not_ your papa, boy,” the older man said nastily.

Hercules gasped.  “You mean mom…”

“No!” the man who was _not_ his papa growled.  “I mean, you don’t belong to either of us.  Happened upon you on the side of the road one day in our travels.  I wanted to leave you—dirty, squalling baby that you were, but your mom had a ridiculous soft side.  Found her backbone and insisted that if I wasn’t willing to take you with us, she’d stay behind right there along the road to care for you.  Well, after that, what was I supposed to do?  I _loved_ the blasted woman.  Couldn’t just leave her behind.  So bottom line?  I have no idea who your parents are, but they certainly ain’t my wife and me.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The news had come like a bolt out of the blue.  For long moments Hercules stood stock still, merely gaping at the man he’d always believed to be his sire.  How was someone supposed to process the sudden information that the entirety of his twenty years of life was a lie?

Eventually, he’d set his jaw, turned on his heel and walked away without a word or backwards glance.

His papa wasn’t really his papa?  Fine!  He didn’t want Hercules travelling with him anymore?  Fine!  Hercules wasn’t a baby; he was a grown man.  He could make it very well on his own; no need to remain where he clearly wasn’t wanted.

And as the days passed, and Hercules got by doing odd jobs here and there in the various villages he passed through, the shock and anger slowly wore off, and a renewed sense of purpose set in.  Suddenly it all made sense—the odd dreams, the feeling of never really fitting in here.  He _didn’t_ fit in because this _wasn’t_ where he belonged.  This _wasn’t_ who he was meant to be.

So his task was clear:  He needed to find out who he really was, who his parents really were, where he _really_ belonged in this crazy world of theirs.

But as he continued moving from place to place, it became increasingly clear that the endeavor was easier said than done.  How does one even go about _starting_ the ball rolling toward discovering his heritage when he had absolutely _no_ information about his parents, where he was born, even _when_ he was born?  It was like trying to find a needle in a whole mountain of haystacks!

The sun was beginning to set for the day, and Hercules was contemplating finding an inn and procuring himself dinner, when he became aware of angry yelling in the distance.  Hercules raised his head and watched as a young woman ran through the forest followed closely by an entire battalion of black guards.

It took no more than a heartbeat for Hercules to spring into action.  The woman seemed ridiculously outnumbered, and Hercules had heard enough tales of the horrors that could befall a person after falling into the hands of the Evil Queen’s blackguards to know he needed to, at the very least, even her odds a bit.

Hercules took off after the procession, reaching them just as the woman tripped on a tree branch and sprawled along the forest path.  She tried to get back to her feet, but her foot, still caught on the branch, twisted with a sickening pop.  She groaned, and then reached for the bow and arrow slung along her back. 

The first black guard reached her just as she discovered her quiver had evidently fallen sometime in her headlong flight.  The man pulled a sword and put the tip to the woman’s throat.

“Hey!” Hercules yelled, stepping up to the group.  “Leave her alone!  What kind of a man _are_ you, attacking an unarmed person?”

The guard turned in his direction, an ugly sneer in place.  “Keep out of matters you don’t understand, boy!” he snarled.

Hercules felt the righteous anger coming over him.  Stepping forward, he delivered a swift punch to the guard, who subsequently fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.  The next five minutes passed in a blur.  The fallen guard’s comrades rushed Hercules in mass, and he fought them off one by one.

But they just kept coming like ants swarming an abandoned picnic.  Who _was_ this young woman that the Evil Queen sent basically her entire army to capture?

Finally, with a growl of frustration, Hercules reached over, uprooted a tree, and swept the whole lot away as though sweeping vermin with a broom.  They fell to the ground, and Hercules stood tensed, ready for them to jump up again and continue the assault, but evidently the tree had done its job.  Several beats of silence passed, and none of the black guards so much as stirred.

Taking a deep breath, Hercules turned back toward the woman.  Her wavy dark hair was pulled back in a sloppy braid, and her green eyes looked up at him in awe—perhaps touched with a hint of fear.

“Thanks,” she said finally.  “It was looking pretty bad for me there before you showed up.”

Hercules waved off her thanks, stooping down to help her extract her foot from its tree-branch trap.  She groaned slightly as the foot finally came free.  “It was my pleasure, my lady,” he said.  “What kind of man of honor would attack an unarmed woman?”

She grinned.  “A man who’s terrified of what Regina will do to him if he turns up empty handed.”

He helped her to her feet and held on to her arm as she tentatively tested her injured ankle.  The move made her grimace, but the twisted appendage evidently held her weight.  “Must be just a sprain rather than a break,” she said.  “Good thing, too.  Now that I have to move my camp, I definitely don’t have the luxury of being laid up for weeks with a broken ankle.”

She took a few limping steps, nodded in satisfaction, and then plopped heavily on a fallen tree trunk.  “Thanks, again,” she said, looking up at him.

“You’re welcome,” Hercules said, taking a seat beside her.  “My name’s Hercules, by the way.  Who is it that I had the pleasure of assisting?”

She cast him a suspicious glance.  After a moment, she seemed to relax.  “My name’s Snow White.”

“Snow White?” he asked, his eyes widening.  “ _The_ Snow White?  The rightful queen of the Enchanted Forest?  The one the Evil Queen has been after for months?”

Snow sketched a quick bow.  “In the flesh.”

“It’s been an absolute honor assisting you, Your Majesty,” he said, getting hastily to his feet.  “There’s not a man or woman alive in these parts who wouldn’t do anything in their power to assist you.”

“I appreciate that,”  Snow said, getting painfully to her feet.  “Well, I’d best get going.  I need to find my weapons and move my camp, and even as hard as you hit them, I doubt these guards will stay knocked out forever.”

“Let me help you with that!” Hercules said.  “You should rest your ankle.  Let me gather your arrows, and then I’ll help you break camp.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience…” Snow said, hesitating.  “I’m sure you have things to do.”

Hercules shook his head with a grin.  “I was getting absolutely nowhere in my quest.  Maybe a short stop to help rightful royalty will help.”

“Well, if you insist,” Snow said, sitting back on the tree trunk.  “And if there’s anything I can do to help you on your own quest, just say the word.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

It wasn’t until Emma took the last few stairs up to the Underbrooke apartment that it occurred to her that Rumple hadn’t followed Henry and her back to the “save Killian” headquarters. 

“Henry,” she said as her son knocked on the apartment door, “did Gold say anything to you about going somewhere?”

Henry looked around as though just noticing his grandfather wasn’t with them anymore.  “No,” he said.  “I…I didn’t even realize he wasn’t with us.  That’s…weird.  And what do you think that was that he gave to Grandma Milah?”

Emma shook her head.  “I don’t know kid, but I have a bad feeling about him.”

“You think he’s lying to us?”

Emma thought for a moment.  “I’m almost sure of it,” she said.  “And there’s something weird about that little piece of china he has.  It was like…like he used it to wipe away all of my suspicions.  Soon as I saw it I didn’t even want to question his motives anymore.”

“That sounds almost like that weird dust King Arthur used on Gram and Gramps back in Camelot,” Henry said.

Their conversation was cut short as the apartment door slowly opened to reveal an entire room full of their heavily armed travelling companions.

Emma raised her hands in the air.  “It’s okay guys, it’s only us.”

She watched as her parents relaxed and then ushered her and Henry in.

David stepped out into the hallway after them and swiveled his head from one side to the other.  “Where’s Gold?”

Emma sighed.  “That is the question of the hour.  He somehow slinked away and neither Henry nor I noticed.”

“How does _that_ happen?” Regina asked  “How hard is it to keep track of _one_ malevolent imp?”

Emma grimaced.  “Pretty hard, it turns out.  Henry and I were just talking.  We think he’s trying to…control us or something with that little piece of…something he pulled out of his pocket.”

“Why would he do that?” Mary Margaret asked, eyes widening.

“Hell if I know,” Emma said with a shrug.  “All I know is that I have a really bad feeling about him.  At the very least, I think we should all be really careful not to look too closely at anything he shoves in our faces.”

“So, it would seem we may need to add another name to our list of villains in the Underworld to steer clear of?” Robin said.

“Yeah, looks that way,” Emma said.  “At any rate, I think we’re better off without Gold around.  Better make the most of it before he tries to weasel his way back into our rescue efforts again.”

The group settled into chairs around the table, and then Mary Margaret put voice to the question on everyone’s mind.

“So…how did it go?” she asked.  “Did you learn anything new from Milah?”

Emma shook her head.  “No, not really,” she said.  “I thought she recognized Killian’s picture there for a minute, but even if she had, she has no idea where he is.”

“And…” Robin asked hesitantly.  “You’re sure she’s telling the truth?  You’re sure she wasn’t merely…prevaricating because of their…history?”

“Absolutely positive,” Emma said decisively.  “I know my superpower can go a little wonky when my emotions are involved, but I have no doubt that she was telling us the truth.”

“Me too,” Henry said.  “I mean, I know I don’t have a superpower or anything, but she really seemed like she wanted to help us.”

Mary Margaret reached out and took Emma’s hand.   “I’m sorry, honey.  I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.”

Emma glanced aside feeling the quick sting of tears behind her eyes.  She blinked quickly, willing them back.  She didn’t have time to indulge in emotion now.  When she felt confident that she could speak without breaking down, she turned back to the group and gave her mother as confident a smile as she could manage, squeezing her hand before pulling back.

“Yeah, it’s rough,” she admitted, “but we’re _going_ to find him.  And, well, Milah didn’t have any info for us at the moment, but she did promise to tell us if she ever ran across Killian.  That’s something, I guess.”

They’d sat around and talked for another hour or two, wracking their collective brains trying to come up with the next plan of attack, but they came up empty.  In the end, they decided to retire for the night and hope a little sleep might give them a new perspective in the morning.

Emma dropped off to sleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow on the sofa.  They’d been down here for a little more than a week, and she’d barely gotten a full night’s sleep during all those nights combined.  The result, of course, was that she was absolutely exhausted.

_She dreamt of him, this strange, Underworld version of him.  He wore a pair of dark-wash jeans and a blue vee-necked sweater that really brought out the color of his eyes.  Of course, it was significantly harder to see those eyes behind the glasses he currently wore._

_He sat down at the computer and began typing steadily.  Emma looked around curiously, hoping to glean some clue about his whereabouts, but the room was shrouded in mist.  She could see nothing but Killian and his perch at the computer._

_She was there, in the room with him, and she tried to move forward, tried to call his name, tried to embrace him, but she was rooted to the spot.  The fact that he didn’t even look up when she called for him led her to believe he couldn’t see or sense her presence._

_And then the scene changed.  Emma watched as Gold gave “Rachel” a large, ornately decorated book, but not before pouring some sort of solution or potion over it.  It made Emma uncomfortable.  Something was off about the potion—not to mention Gold’s pleased reaction when Rachel took the book and agreed to take it to someone named Colin._

_The scene changed again, and Emma was once more with Killian at his house.  She watched as he cocked his head as his doorbell chimed.  He opened the door to admit…_ Rachel! _Emma watched, fascinated as Rachel presented him with the book, as the two of them chatted like old friends over a cup of tea, as Rachel left and went on her way._

_She strained her eyes as the front door opened, hoping to see anything that might give her a clue where Milah and Killian were.  She grinned in triumph as she moved forward and caught a glimpse of a wide front porch and was about to see further…_

A crash and an irritated curse woke her abruptly.  Emma shot to a seated position in time to see her father right the kitchen chair he’d apparently knocked over.  He set it back in its place, and then noticed Emma watching him.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said with chagrin.  “Your mother and I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible; we know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Emma ran a hand through her hair, got to her feet and then stretched.  “’S okay dad,” she said on a yawn.  “Probably time I get up and start figuring out our next move anyway.”

Emma moved to the window, noting the pinks and purples and oranges of a brilliant sunrise.  She didn’t know why, but it felt like a sign to her, proof that they were on the right track, that they were getting closer.  She turned around and shot her father (and her mother who’d come up behind him) a brilliant smile.

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” Snow said slowly.

“Yeah,” Emma admitted.  “I think I have an idea.”

“Really?” Henry asked, bounding down the stairs and giving her an exuberant hug, which she fervently returned.  “What is it?”

“Well,” Emma said, seating herself back on the couch, “I had another dream.”

“We’re using _dreams_ to plan our strategies now?” Regina asked as she and Robin took a seat across from Emma.

“This wasn’t just a dream,” Emma said excitedly.  “It was…it was like the dream I had the other day.  It was _real_ ; I _know_ it was!”

“The True Love connection again?” her father asked.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Well, what’d you see?” Henry asked eagerly.

“I saw Killian again,” Emma began.  She went on to detail the entire dream—from Killian typing at the computer, to Gold giving Milah a book soaked in some kind of potion, to Gold asking Milah to take the book to someone named ‘Colin’, to Milah meeting with Killian.

When she got to the end of the tale, there was silence in the flat.

“Don’t you see?” Emma asked excitedly.  “All we have to do is go back and talk to Milah again!  She _knows_ now!  She knows where Killian is!”

Emma watched as her parents, as Regina and Robin gave each other significant glances.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms and sinking back into the sofa.

“It’s just…” Regina said, “Miss Swan, we already _talked_ to Milah.  You said she knows nothing.  We go talk to her again, we run the risk of drawing attention to ourselves, and that will definitely _not_ work to our advantage.”

Emma looked toward her parents.  “But isn’t it worth the risk if we find Killian?”

“Emma…” Mary Margaret said gently, “are you sure about this?  Really, truly _sure_?  I know you think it was a true love dream, but…well, maybe it was just this place playing tricks on you.  We need to be absolutely sure before we try something reckless.”

Emma shot to her feet.  They didn’t _believe_ her?  Great!  Just _great_!  They finally get a breakthrough and her family won’t even back her up on it.

Henry got to his feet and stood by her.  “Well, I believe in mom,” he said.  “If she says Milah’s our best bet, than that’s the way we should go.  Let’s go talk to Grandma Milah.”

Emma shot her son a grateful look and then turned back toward the other adults.  “Look, guys, we’ve already been here over a week, and we have _nothing_ to show for it.  None of us had any new ideas last night.  Isn’t it better to at least _try_ this rather than sitting at home staring at each other and hoping a lightbulb goes off in someone’s head?”

The others were silent for another moment, and then David stepped up.  “You’ve got a point.  For what it’s worth, your mother and I are with you too.”

Regina sighed.  “Fine.  I don’t like this.  If my mother catches us I just want everyone to remember I was against this.  But…Robin and I are with you as well.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

By the time they’d made their plans for the day, it was long past the time school started for the day.  There was no way to know where “Rachel” might spend her time before it was time for her afternoon shift.

“Well, I’m not just sitting around the loft all day,” Emma said determinedly.  “Maybe we have to wait to talk to Milah, but I’m damn well not just sitting around twiddling my thumbs all day.”

“I have a bad feeling about hanging around in town for too long at one time,” David said.  “Anyone else have any ideas?”

“We could take up camp in the woods near town,” Mary Margaret suggested.  “It’s close enough we can keep an eye on what’s going on Underbrooke without being seen ourselves.”

And so they’d made their way to the woods.  Emma paced, chaffing at the bit to be going again.  It was agonizing, _knowing_ where they could get the information they needed, but being completely unable to go there for several hours.  What if they didn’t _all_ go off after Milah?  What if she slipped off on her own?  There’d be a lot less risk of exposure with just one woman alone.  She was about to suggest it, when there was the sound of footsteps behind them.

Emma froze, her hand going to her gun.  Slowly she turned to see a tall, muscular young man with light brown hair, blue eyes and bulging muscles.  Just as she was about to ask him who the hell he was and what the hell he wanted, her mother shot past and enveloped the man in a tight, motherly hug.

“Hercules?” she asked.  “Is that really you?”

The man looked taken aback for a moment, and then looked intently at her.  “Snow?  _You’re_ here too?  Please don’t tell me the Evil Queen finally destroyed you!”

“I most certainly have not!” Regina muttered.  “I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you keep up with the current state of affairs.  I can assure you I am no longer the villain you need to concern yourself with.”

Hercules looked from one woman to the other, his face a mask of confusion.  Mary Margaret laughed, pulling him by the hand and introducing him to the group.

“So…” Hercules asked.  “Was there…some sort of accident or something?  What are you all doing together here in the underworld…and if you’re all heroes, how are you aware of what’s happening.”

“Well,” Emma said, “that’s a long story, but short version?  We’re not dead.  We’re on a rescue mission.  Need to find my true love and get the hell out of here.”

Hercules chuckled.  “Well, it seems we have more in common than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Mary Margaret asked.

“It just so happens I’m on a rescue mission as well,” Hercules said, looking aside.  “Hades has the woman I love, and…it’s my fault she’s here.  I have to find her;  I have to save her.”

“Maybe we could team up,” David suggested.  “You help us find my daughter’s true love; we’ll help you find yours.”

Hercules shot him a grateful smile.  “I would much appreciate it!”

“My wife told me how you saved her all those years ago,” David continued.  “If there’s anything I can do to help you, just say the word.”

“My biggest issue right now, other than fear for the well-being of my love, of course,” Hercules began, “is time.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked.  “Are you on some sort of deadline?”

“You could say that,” Hercules answered.  “You see, there is a prophecy, a prophecy that states I’ll defeat Hades.  I have the opportunity to make right the wrongs he’s been perpetuating for centuries.  According to the prophecy, my only hope is to confront the god of the dead on the night the stars all align.  That gives me little more than two weeks!”

“Any idea how you’re supposed to go about defeating Hades?” Emma asked.

Hercules shook his head.  “I don’t know specifics.  All I know is that I have to prove myself as a true hero.  I also need the help of a man who’s defeated death and of a couple who share a love so true, even death itself can’t defeat it.”

“Mom!” Henry said excitedly, “that sounds like you and Killian!  What if _you’re_ the True Love couple?  Maybe we’re supposed to be here for more than just to bring Killian back!”

Emma chuckled nervously.  “Not sure I’m ready for a full blown war with the god of the dead, kid,” she said.

“Come on mom, think about it!” Henry said.  “You’re the _savior_.  Maybe you can break the curse over the Underworld and help everyone move on to their eternal destiny.”

Emma shook her head, smiling.  “We’ll see, kid.  Let’s just find Killian first, though.”

Hercules gave her a quick look.  “Pardon, but who was it you said you were looking for?”

“His real name is Killian,” Emma said.  “Here…here I think he goes by Colin.  He’s a writer or something.  No one we talk to seems to know anything about him.  Do…do you have any information for me?”

Hercules smiled broadly and Emma felt her heart rate quicken, sensing they were on the verge of something _big._

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Hercules said.

There was utter confusion for several moments as every single member of their group simultaneously shouted questions at him.  Finally Emma whistled loudly.  “Guys, let the man talk!”

“Thank you,” Hercules said.  “The man you seek, does he have dark hair?  Blue eyes?  A small scar high on his cheekbone?”

Emma felt the tears rush to her eyes.  “Yeah,” she said, her voice wavering in her emotion.  “That’s him.”

“I can’t be sure, of course,” Hercules went on, “but that sounds an awful lot like Colin Delamer.  He’s an author and something of a recluse.  As far as I know, he hasn’t left his house as long as he’s been here.”

“Where..” Emma began and then cleared her throat as her voice broke.  “Were does he live?  Where can we find his house?”

“He lives on the edge of town—next to the sea—in a large house with a wide wrap-around porch and turrets and a white picket fence out front.”

Henry took her arm, looking up at her with shining eyes.  “That’s our house, Mom!  The one Killian and I picked for you.  It _has_ to be!”

The tears started flowing freely then, a full torrent accompanied by wracking sobs as it slowly hit home to Emma that they’d found him, that their long nightmare was _finally_ almost at an end.

Because she knew with every fiber of her being that Colin Delamer could be none other than Killian Jones.

_Notes:_

_\--A bit of a longish chapter again, but I_ had _to get to that big reveal there at the end!_

_\--So there you have it.  We may not have gotten to a CS reunion yet, but Emma now knows who and where Killian is.  Things are definitely moving forward!_

_\--Up next: In the Enchanted Forest, several years ago, a grateful Snow White helps Hercules figure out a way to find out his true identity.  In the present, Hercules tells the gang a few more details about what they’ll need to do to defeat Hades, and they split up.  Emma and Henry, of course, head to Colin Delamer’s house.  :-)_

 


	12. Chapter 12

_The Enchanted Forest, a few years before the first Dark Curse_

Hercules drove the last stake into ground—being sure use no more than a gentle tap—and then got back to his feet, dusted off his hands and smiled at Snow White.

“That ought to take care of you, Your Majesty,” he said. “Anything else you need?”

Snow smiled at him from her seat on the ground. “I think that’s it,” she said. “Thank you again. With my ankle…it would have been nearly impossible for me to break camp and move all the way out here without your help.”

Hercules waved away the thanks. “Glad I could be useful…to someone.”

She gave him a long, assessing look. “You look like someone who’s carrying a heavy burden. Anything I can do to help?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty,” he said with a decisive shake of his head. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do to help.”

She patted the ground beside her. “Well at the very least, I’m a good listener. Sometimes it helps to talk about your problems. Sometimes talking them out with a stranger helps you work out a solution you didn’t know was possible before.”

“I don’t want to impose…”

“You saved me from Regina’s black guards,” Snow said, “then you help me move. I’d say the least I can do is do what I can to help you work through your burdens. I’ll start a fire; see what I can scrounge up for dinner.”

Hercules hesitated for another moment—he really should be on his way. On the other hand, he still had no idea where _his way_ was. What could it hurt to spend a little more time with his new friend?

Finally he nodded, and sat down beside her. “My biggest problem at the moment?” he began, “I don’t have any idea who I am.”

And then the whole story came out—about how he never quite felt like he belonged, about his clumsiness, about his super-strength, and finally about the disaster that was the performance at the castle earlier that day.

“And that’s when I found out there was a reason I never quite felt like I belonged,” Hercules said.

“Yeah?” Snow asked, offering him a bowl of stew she’d prepared, “and what reason was that.”

“Because I don’t” Hercules said simply.

He took a bite of the stew and chewed slowly. Snow remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. “The man I’ve called my papa all my life…well, he finally told me I wasn’t his child. He and my mom just…found me along the side of the road one day and decided to take me in.”

Snow gasped. “Just like that? He just sprung that information on you with no warning.”

“Yeah,” Hercules said, setting his bowl aside, suddenly feeling significantly less hungry than he had a few minutes ago. “Just like that. One minute he was yelling at me for ruining his chances, and the next he told me he was washing his hands of me.”

“That’s terrible!” Snow said.

“I suppose,” Hercules said thoughtfully, “but at least it gives me a quest, something to give meaning to my life.”

“You want to find out your heritage,” Snow said, “who you really are.”

“Exactly.”

Hercules picked up his bowl again, and the two of them ate in companionable silence for several moments. Finally Snow spoke again. “So what have you learned so far? Any leads?”

He shook his head. “Not a single one. I have nothing, absolutely _nothing_ to go on. If I’m being honest…I haven’t a clue where to go from here.” He sighed deeply. “Maybe even this quest is hopeless.”

Snow looked at him carefully as though weighing her words. Finally she nodded and spoke earnestly. “ _Nothing_ is hopeless. There’s always hope, if you only stop to look for it.”

“Pardon me for being indelicate,” Hercules said, “ but even here? Even in your situation?”

Snow nodded decisively. “I’m certainly not living the life I expected to live back when I was a little girl living in a castle with doting parents. This situation with Regina is definitely far from optimum, but I have _hope_. I have hope that I’ll one day get justice. I have hope that Regina will one day realize that this never ending vengeance will never sooth her hurting spirit. I have hope that one day things will be better.”

“Extraordinary,” Hercules said, sitting back and crossing his arms. “When I found you, you were being chased by an entire battalion of the queen’s guards. One of them was on the point of slaying you, and yet you still speak of hope!”

Snow shrugged. “Yeah, things were looking pretty desperate there for a moment, but then you showed up. Everything worked out. There are always reasons to despair, to give in to pessimism, but I reject that. I choose _hope_ , and it’s never let me down yet!”

There was something about this woman that made Hercules _believe_. He felt his spirits revive in spite of himself. “Listening to you speak about hope…well, it makes me think maybe my task isn’t as hopeless after all.”

“Of course it isn’t!” Snow said brightly.

“But whether or not I eventually succeed,” Hercules said, “the fact remains that I haven’t a clue where to look next.”

Snow looked aside for a moment, obviously deep in thought, and then she brightened. “I don’t know if it would be any use to you, but I’ve heard of an ancient temple of the gods. It sits about half a day’s journey south of here. Legend says that if a person goes there, he can speak to the gods. I don’t know if there’s anything to that—or if any of the gods could even help you, but it’s worth a try.”

Hercules smiled broadly. “It certainly is. Even if the gods don’t give me all the information I seek, maybe they can point me in the right direction.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The sun was just beginning to set when Hercules arrived at the temple of the gods later that night. He glanced at the large, ornately decorated stone building with interest and more than a little awe. What manner of beings these gods must be to merit a temple this grand!

Slowly, reverently, Hercules opened the door—being careful to exert only the most minimal pressure. He figured he’d be cursed for all of eternity if he managed to destroy or damage this place.

The interior was dark; the only light coming from torches at each of the gods’ shrines. There were so many of them! Who should he contact? Who would be his best bet for getting the answers he so desperately sought? Would it be frowned upon to contact more than one? Would that anger the gods?

He didn’t want to take the chance. He must decide on one god and one god alone to contact and hope that his pick was a good one.

But how to choose?

He decided to travel the length of the hall, perusing the shrines, hoping something jumped out at him. He passed Aphrodite, the shrine decorated with roses, scallop shells and a myrtle wreath, Apollo with his laurel wreath and lyre, Ares with his vultures and snakes, Athena with her owl, Hades, accompanied by a statue of Cerberus and Poseidon with his dolphin. At the end of the hall he even saw a temple to “an unknown god”, simple and unadorned.

But it was when he reached the shrine of Zeus that Hercules felt an almost electricl thrill run through his body. Zeus, the god ruling over all of Mt. Olympus and Elysium stood proud and strong, a scepter of power in his hand. Hercules _knew_ that face! _He’d seen it in his dreams_.

But there was more than that. Zeus’s shrine was adorned with a magnificent lightning bolt as his symbol of deity. Hercules unconsciously fingered his left wrist where a birthmark that looked _exactly_ like that symbol graced his skin. This was far, far too significant to be a coincidence.

This was the god he was meant to contact.

Mentally thanking Snow White for leading him _exactly_ where he needed to be, Hercules, grabbed a handful of the magic dust sitting in a the large basin beside the shrine. Taking a deep breath, he tossed the dust into the fire, stood back, and waited.

For a moment nothing happened, and then suddenly everything happened at once. A cloud seemed to cover the shrine, out of which flashed bolts of lightning. Claps of thunder loud enough that Hercules brought his hands up to his ears and winced filled the temple and echoed throughout its cavernous depths.

When the cloud finally dissolved, the stone statue of Zeus seemed to glow and then come to life. “Greetings, mortal,” the statue spoke in a deep, booming voice that someone had the sound of thunder. “I am Zeus, god of Mount Olympus and Elysium. How might I be of assistance to you tonight?”

For a moment Hercules stood mute and rooted to the spot. There was something incredibly intimidating in the magnificence and splendor of this god. Who was he, a mere _mortal_ to ask Zeus’s help?

Apparently sensing his effect on the man before him, the Zeus statue muted it’s glow and modified its voice. “You have nothing to fear lad,” he said. “I cannot guarantee I can fulfill your request, but you have no need to fear making it.”

Hercules took a deep breath and stood taller. He’d come this far; he wasn’t going to let intimidation keep him from finding out what he so desperately wanted to know.

“My name is Hercules,” he said. The statue gasped (if it was possible for a stone edifice to do so) and took a tiny step back. Strange, very strange. Hercules continued on, intent on getting his entire explanation out before his lost his nerve. “I…I just learned that my entire life to this point is a lie. The man I’ve known as my papa just informed me that I’m not, in fact, his son. I was found along the side of the road. Now…now I want to know who I am, where I came from, what my heritage is. A friend suggested I try contacting one of the gods, and, well, your symbol matches the one on my wrist, so…”

Hercules rolled up the sleeve on his tunic to display the birthmark. The statue stepped forward and peered at the mark intently, and then straightened.

“Hercules?” he asked in a voice choked with emotion. “Is it you? Is it _really_ you, my boy?”

Hercules’ brow furrowed. Of all the reactions he’d expected from the god….this was not even on the list. Truth be told, he didn’t even know what to make of it.

“Yes…” he said slowly, drawing out the single syllable.

“My boy!” the god said, “My brave, beautiful boy! At last! I thought I’d never find you!”

Without warning, the statue stepped forward and enveloped him in a tight hug—a distinctly uncomfortable feeling as the statue was made of cold, hard, unyielding stone. After a moment of shock, Hercules reached one arm around and awkwardly patted the statue on the back, wondering if he’d suddenly lost his mind. What was going _on_ here?

After long moments, the statue released him and stepped back, wiping at eyes that would likely be streaming with tears, if stone statues actually had tear ducts.

“Um…” Hercules said, shifting from one foot to another. “I’m…glad I could make you happy, but…I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The statue chuckled. “My apologies, of course you don’t. You might want to take a seat on that bench, lad. This might come as a bit of a shock.”

Hercules did as instructed and listened slack jawed as the head god over all the other gods informed him that he was, in fact his son and heir—a son who had been kidnapped many, many years before.”

“And so you see,” Zeus finished, “your mother and I were frantic, desperate to find you, but you were given a potion of mortality, and thus were really and truly lost to us. Still, I sent servants to look for you. For long days, months, years, they looked, but none ever found you. It is only by a miracle we’re reunited at last!”

At this, the god seemed unable to go on, choked as he was once more with emotion. Hercules stood dumbfounded for long moments, hardly able to take it all in. He was a _god_?

“I…I don’t understand,” he finally stammered. “I…was born a god, but now I’m mortal? If that’s true…why do I feel so out of my element here, like I don’t belong?”

The statue chuckled. “Well that can be chalked up to the utter ineptitude of Hades’ minions. They fed you the potion, but they failed to make you take the last drop. You, my boy, still retain a trace amount of your godhood.”

“I do?” Hercules asked wide eyed.

“Tell me,” the statue said with a smile, “have you ever noticed abilities, powers beyond that of your peers?”

Hercules nodded. “Yeah. I’ve always been strong. Really, _really_ strong. It’s….caused more than a few headaches through the years. I tend to be rather unintentionally destructive.”

Zeus laughed, and then clapped Hercules on the shoulder. “There it is, my lad. Your drop of immortality.”

Hercules felt as though a heavy weight had suddenly lifted from his shoulders. It was crazy, insane to think he was the son of a _god_ , that he was a god himself, but…it really would explain so much. And suddenly, for the first time in his life he began to think maybe he was more than just the village freak, the boy who never really fit in anywhere.

Maybe his adoptive mom _was_ right. Maybe his strength truly _was_ a gift!

“That’s fantastic!” Hercules said, surging to his feet once more. “So what happens now? Now that you’ve found me, can you…can you bring me back home with you?”

The statue glanced aside and sighed deeply. Finally he turned back toward Hercules. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, my son. It is only gods who are allowed within the gates of Mount Olympus. I’d gladly change the rules for you, but, sadly it is not within my power.”

Hercules’ shoulders fell. “So,” he said in a defeated voice, “you’re telling me it’s hopeless? I don’t belong on earth because of my drop of immortality, and I don’t belong on Mount Olympus either because of my mortality?”

Zeus shook his head. “My lad, there’s _always_ hope. Most of your godhood may have been taken from you, but all is not lost! What was taken from you can again be restored.”

“How?” Herucles asked.

“To restore your divinity is a simple but difficult proposition,” Zeus said, somewhat paradoxically. “You must simply do this: prove yourself to be a _true_ hero. Once you’ve done so, your godhood will be returned to you, and you will be welcomed back to Mount Olympus, back to your true home.”

“What must I do to prove I’m a true hero?” Hercules asked.

Zeus shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid that is something I cannot tell you. This is a lesson you must learn for yourself. A word of caution, however, heroism does not lie merely with strength and force. True bravery lies far deeper than that. Good luck my son. Your mother and I eagerly await your glorious return.”

And with that, the cloud returned with its thunder and lightning. A moment later all was still and silent.

Hercules left the temple of the gods with a renewed sense of purpose; a new quest set before him. Come what may, he _would_ prove himself to be a true hero!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Emma didn’t know how long she stood there merely sobbing in her relief. At some point her mother took her into her arms, and her father placed a comforting hand on her back.

She’d been absolutely, 100% determined to get to Killian, no matter what it took, but somehow this was the first moment it felt _real_. This was the first moment she realized that it was going to happen; that she was going to find him and she was going to save him and she was going to take him home and this whole crazy ordeal would eventually come to an end.

She’d lost so many people in her life, but finally she was going to get someone back. Not just _someone_. Her true love. The man who would soon very literally be the other half of her very heart.

It was hard to take it all in.

Eventually, Emma pulled herself together, realizing it was all a moot point if she didn’t actually, you know, go to Killian, restore his memories and split her heart with him.

She stepped from her parents’ arms and looked around at the others. Their expressions ran the gamut from sympathetic to understanding.

Hercules looked utterly baffled. “I’m sorry, madam,” he said. “I certainly didn’t mean to cause pain.”

Emma smiled brilliantly through her tears. “Don’t worry; you didn’t. What I’m feeling right now is about the furthest thing possible from pain. You just gave me hope when I was starting to believe my task was hopeless.”

“Just returning the favor,” he said, smiling warmly at Mary Margaret. “Turns out someone else did the same for me once, and it changed my entire life.”

Mary Margaret returned the smile, and looked on the verge of speaking, but Emma cut her off. “Alright, so now that we know where Killian is, no point skulking out in the woods. Let’s head to our house and save the man I love!”

“We might want to think this through before we act rashly,” Regina said in response.

Emma crossed her arms and scowled. “What’s to think about? We’re here to save Killian. We found him, now we go save him. It’s all pretty simple.”

“Believe me,” Regina said, “I want to get the hell out of here as much as you do, Miss Swan, but the fact is, going in guns blazing without exercising a little caution might blow up in our faces.”

“What are you concerned about?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Well, to begin, what Emma told us back at the loft,” Regina said. “If Gold really is trying to screw us over; if he’s been trying to control and manipulate us, we’ve potentially got a monumental problem on our hands. Who knows _what_ he’s really after…or who he’s aligned himself with to get it. If, for example, he’s working with my mother, there’s a good chance he’s told her all about our task…and our plans. We need a good, solid plan with an exit strategy in place before we do anything.”

David sighed. “Unfortunately that is true.”

“Well what do you suggest?” Emma asked, her feet itching to leave, to run to the house where she knew she’d find Killian, chafing at every moment of delay.

Regina shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, “but that’s not even our biggest problem at the moment.”

“I almost fear to ask,” Robin said, “but what _is_ our biggest problem?”

“We got to the Underworld by using Gold’s blood to open a portal,” Regina answered, taking Robin’s hand and lacing their fingers. “At present we know of _no_ other way to open a portal. If Gold really has betrayed us, it’s a pretty good bet he’s not going to be willing to help out on the return journey.”

“But” Mary Margaret said, “does it matter? We’re mortal; we don’t belong within the Underworld. Eventually won’t we just automatically be sent back, you know like how the Dark Ones Hook brought back would have had to return to the Underworld if they hadn’t marked all of us.”

“In theory yes,” Regina answered, “but I have a bad feeling about all of this. True, we can’t remain down here indefinitely if we’re still alive, but there’s nothing keeping the dead down here from doing us in. Without our magic, Miss Swan, how long do you think we could hold our own against an entire universe of aggressors?”

Emma’s shoulders slumped realizing the truth of Regina’s statements. Would they _never_ get a break? A _real_ break?

Hercules cleared his throat. “I may be able to help with your dilemma,” he said. “Should I succeed in my endeavors; should I defeat Hades, my godhood will be fully restored and I will have the ability to open a portal for you.”

“You’d do that for us?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Of course, your majesty,” Hercules said. “Without you, I likely never would have found out who I really am. If the prophecy is to be believed, I must regain my godhood before the stars align so that I will be capable of defeating Hades.”

“So,” Henry asked, “what do you need to do to get your godhood back?”

“I must prove myself to be a true hero,” Hercules answered, “and in order to do that, I _must_ find the woman I love. She doesn’t belong here; I’m the reason she was taken, and I _must_ right my wrong.”

“So basically what you’re telling us,” Emma said, “is that we have about two and a half weeks to save Killian, find your true love, figure out how Killian and I and our love fits into your prophecy, figure out what Gold’s really up to and how to stop him, and make a battle plan to defeat the god of the dead—which, somehow also involves Killian and our true love?”

“Yeah,” Hercules said, “that more or less sums it up.”

“Why can’t anything _ever_ be simple?” Emma asked under her breath.

As the question was clearly rhetorical, no one bothered to answer.

“Alright,” David said, nodding decidedly. “Clearly we’re not going to accomplish all of this in time if we’re not smart about it. I propose we split up. Regina and Robin do some surveillance, find out what Gold’s really up to and just how much Cora and Hades already know. Emma and Henry head to the house by the sea, find Killian and work on restoring his memories. Snow and I go with Hercules and help him find his love.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Robin said decidedly.

Everyone agreed, and so the plan was decided. They would go their separate ways, and then meet at the house by the sea within 24 hours’ time.

“One last caution,” Hercules said before they broke for their respective missions. “You haven’t by any chance eaten or drunk anything throughout your time here, have you?”

“No,” Emma said, “Haven’t been hungry; haven’t wanted to risk being seen searching for food.”

“Good,” Hercules said with a nod, “It’s how Hades traps you. If you eat the food here or drink the drink, you’ll never be able to leave.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Colin woke up that morning with a smile on his face. Something was different about this morning. He couldn’t explain it, but he just _knew_. The sun was brighter, the colors of the sunrise more brilliant. Even the air seemed purer, sweeter.

That feeling that things were changing, that something momentous was about to happen had grown stronger and stronger until it was nearly overwhelming.

Colin sat down to his writing today with a smile on his lips. It was going to be a _good_ day.

He wrote steadily for a time, detailing the events of the modified storybook Isaac and Rumplestiltskin had produced. His main character had lost his memories, believed he was a cowardly deckhand rather than the brave pirate captain he truly was.

That was until the audacious lad showed up, commandeered Captain Blackbeard’s ship and asked Killian to save his mother. They’d made it to the castle where the fair maiden was being held, and the lad had succeeded in immobilizing the guard. Now all that remained was for Henry to save his mother.

_I stood in the stairwell where the lad left me, eyeing the unconscious black guard the lad had knocked out. What was I to do if the villain regained consciousness? I had a sword, aye, be I’d never used a blade in his life._

_I had a bad feeling about this whole venture, but the lad had been so_ insistent _, and I couldn’t help but trust Henry’s instincts._

_And, truth be told, terrifying as it all was, there was something rather exhilarating about going on an adventure, helping to save a fair maiden from her imprisonment in a tower. I hoped the boy was successful—and soon. My sudden burst of courage could only last so long._

_There was a tumult in the tower above, and my heart began pounding. I clutched ineffectually at my sword, praying to any deity that would listen that I wouldn’t be called upon to defend the lad or his mother._

_A moment later there as the sound of rushing footsteps on the stairs, and then the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen turned the corner and ran directly into me. My eyes widened, taking in her curling blonde hair, her green eyes, her blue dress that hugged her in all the right places._

_I wished to say something profound, beautiful. I wished to spout poetry, but truth be told, all rational thought fled from my mind in the presence of such an angel._

_She stared up at me in awe and wonder, the tears shimmering in her eyes. She smiled, her hand motioning as though she wished to bring it to my face but was only restraining herself with the greatest of difficulty._

_After long moments, I blinked, shook my head, trying to regain some semblance of sense…_

Colin’s doorbell rang for the third time this week. He looked up quickly. Truly his home was becoming quite the social hub. Years upon years of only the most sporadic visits and now he was receiving visitors every day? Incredible.

When he opened the door, his jaw dropped. It was _her_ , the woman who’d been invading his dreams for the past week. His heart began to pound a desperate rhythm in his chest. This was…this was _impossible_!

But he had no time to contemplate the utter impossibility of it all. The moment the door was opened and the woman caught sight of him, she breathed “Killian!”—and then launched herself at him. Her arms came around him—one around his waist, and the other cupping the back of his head.

Instinctively Colin wrapped his own arms around her, feeling the need to protect, to embrace. The woman buried her face in his neck, and he heard her sob, felt her tears against his neck. He felt the tears start in the back of his own eyes, not knowing where the emotion came from. He knew but one thing, to fail this woman was a possibility not even to be considered.

He held her for a moment, hardly aware of what he was doing; wondering if he was somehow still dreaming; deciding if he was, he had no wish to wake.

And then she pulled back slightly, surged to her tip-toes and kissed him like he’d _never_ in his life been kissed. All thought, all reason fled, and for long moments he kissed her back equally as passionately, equally as desperately.

Odd sensations flowed through him…humid, damp heat as one might find in a jungle. The relief of a successful mission. “ _Did you really save his life?_ ” “ _Doesn’t mean I’d leave your father to die on this island_.” “ _You couldn’t handle it._ ” “ _Perhaps_ you’re _the one who couldn’t handle it_.”

For long moment the embrace went on, growing steadily more passionate as Colin slanted his mouth and deepened the kiss. Almost of its own accord, his hand began to roam, and it was anyone’s guess what might have happened next if a very pointed adolescent groan hadn’t suddenly filled the silence.

“Look guys,” the lad said, his voice laced with good humor, “I know you’re glad to see each other and everything, but _I’m right here_!”

Reality suddenly descended, and Colin pulled away breathing heavily and shooting the woman a searching look. She was smiling so broadly he wondered if her face ached—even while the tears continued to stream from her eyes.

Colin shook his head, and then looked at the woman and the teenage boy standing on his porch. “Pardon love,” he said, noting the breathless sound of his voice, “but do we know each other?”

_Notes:_

_\--So there you have it! Emma found Killian. Now all she has to do is find a way to jog his memories and make him fall in love with her all over again. Given all the “first” meetings these two have had—all of which ended with the two of them in love—I’d say this is definitely a doable mission!_

_\--For anyone hoping for a TLK—just remember that can’t happen when one of the parties doesn’t remember loving the other. Now if that should change; if the memory-wiped party should fall in love with the other anyway….well I think you may know where I’m going with this. :-)_

_\--Up next: For the “back in time” section, we’ll take a little break from the Hercules story to delve into just how Cora managed to land a…ahem…hell of a husband—and the reason she’s really, really, really invested in his success. In the present, we’ll pick up immediately where we left off as Emma and Henry try to find a way to jog Killian’s memory._


	13. Chapter 13

_Underworld a couple of years before_

_“You would have been enough_. _”_

Cora’s closed her eyes for the last time—at least the last time in life.  She felt herself falling, falling, the chilly air rushing past her.  She felt a moment of fear as she lashed out, tried to stop her momentum with her magic.

But nothing happened; her magic was suddenly, completely and inexplicably gone. 

The fear hardened into steely resolve.  So she’d lost her magic?  If the powers that be thought _that_ would stop her, they were in for a rude awakening.  Cora had never, _ever_ let anything get in the way of her ambition, and she wasn’t about to start now.

So she was dead.  Big deal.  Somehow she’d find a way to come out on top.

She continued to fall for what felt like hours, days, centuries.  Eventually she blacked out and knew now more.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

When Cora woke again, she found herself  in a prison of some sort.  She was dressed in Enchanted Forest attire—deep blue dress, fabulous updo and tiara.  The ensemble spoke of power and royalty, and Cora would have been pleased with it…except for the fact that she was handcuffed to the metal grate at her back.

She pulled ineffectually at her bonds, willing her magic to come back, wracking her brains for a way to free herself. 

“Yeah, you might as well give up,” came a woman’s voice to her left.  “Everybody tries to get free, and no one succeeds.  I’m afraid by the time you get down here, your ass belongs to Hades.”

Cora whipped her head in the direction of the voice and shot the woman a death glare—or tried to at least.  The corner where the woman was being held was wreathed in shadows, and Cora could see little more than her fellow prisoner’s outline.

“I’ll have you know,” Cora said regally, “My ‘ass’ as you so crudely put it belongs to _no one_.  I am a queen, and I will not suffer _anyone_ to forget it, even the god of the dead.”

“Well, well,” a new, male voice drawled.  “Looks like someone’s feisty.  I like that.  Makes this whole ‘send people on to their eternal destinies’ thing that much more fun.”

Cora turned back toward the light in the middle of the room and found herself face to face with a man in a long robe with ridiculous flaming blue hair.

“And just who are you?” Cora asked haughtily.

The man took an exaggerated bow.  “Hades, god over the Underworld and hell, at your service.  And today I’ll serve as your judge and jury.”

Cora rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  Let’s get on with it.”

“My lady’s wish is my command,” Hades responded with another mocking bow and a big, cheesy grin.

Cora watched impassively as two of the ugliest…men?...creatures?...she’d ever seen set up a large screen and a projector, after which a moving picture detailing her entire life passed before her eyes.  When it completed, a verdict was passed down.

“You, Cora Mills, former miller’s daughter, former Queen of Hearts, former mother of the mayor of Storybrooke and of the witch ruler of Oz have been weighed and found lacking.  Your eternal destiny is hell.”

“Big surprise there,” one of the ugly creatures smirked.  “You, lady, were quite a piece of work.”

“She sure was!” the other added cheerfully.

Hades rolled his head and sighed dramatically.  “Just who asked you two imbeciles to provide commentary?  You’re ruining the dramatic effect!”

“Pain was just stating a fact,” the 2nd speaker pointed out.

“Yeah,” the first said, “and Panic was just agreeing with me.  What’s wrong with that?”

Hades turned toward Cora and gave her a long suffering look.  “Do you _see_ what I have to put up with on a daily basis?”

Cora looked on at Pain and Panic dispassionately.  “If it were me,” she said, “I’d have banished them long before now.”

“I tried that,” Hades said on another sigh.  “Just caused me more headaches.  You have no _idea_ how much havoc they can wreak in hell!”

Cora shrugged to the best of her ability in her current state of being bound.  “Well, there’s always torture.”

Hades grinned broadly.  “You know, I like the way you think.”

“So, I’m to be sent to hell,” Cora said dispassionately. “If that’s the case, why am I still chained to a grate here…wherever this is?”

“Because,” Hades said, “today is your lucky day.  Looks like through a little twist of fate, you still have unfinished business.  You have a murderer still running around happy and free while you languish down here.  (Well, I guess technically she’s not _happy_.  She did, just go to your daughter and ask her to crush her heart.  Humans and their ridiculous guilt.  Hard to figure!  But she’s definitely free.)”

“I most certainly _do_ have unfinished business with King Leopold’s little brat!” Cora spat.  “Give me a few moments back on earth, and I’ll make her wish she’d never been born!”

“Sorry toots,” Hades said, “doesn’t work that way.  See there’s a barrio that separates our world from theirs.  Can’t cross it.  Well _I_ can cross it because I’m, you know, a _god_ , but you’re s.o.l.”

“I’m afraid I fail to see how this is my lucky day, in that case.”

“Here’s the deal,” Hades said.  “If you have unfinished business, you get to stay here in the Underworld with me, and you could say I have a soft spot for the villains.  What would you like your afterlife to look like?”

Cora thought carefully.  “Power.  I want power.”

Hades shot her a warm look; if Cora didn’t know better she’d even call it a _besotted_ look.  With a snap of his fingers, her chains disappeared.  “A woman after my own heart.  I think I’ve got the perfect place for you.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Cora took up residence within the mayor’s home that very day.  For a time it was enough, being the highest law within the Underworld.

Eventually it wasn’t. 

The fact remained, there was still a higher station to which she could aspire.  Why settle for being a mayor when you could be queen?

It was really Hades himself that started the idea within her mind.  As it happened, the besotted look he’d given her at her judgement was must assuredly _not_ a one-time thing.  A week after she’d settled into her new role, he’d shown up at her home asking if she’d like to accompany him to dinner.

He seemed to have put some effort into his appearance for the occasion.  He wore a fancy black suit with an electric blue tie that matched his hair perfectly.  (He’d informed her that he usualy went with “normal” brown hair during the times he ventured out among his Underworld subjects, but for this occasion he’d put a glamour spell over himself so that only _she_ could see his actual appearance.  Apparently he thought there was something _appealing_ about the ridiculous hair fire.)

Hades had seemed so _nervous_.  It was really quite amusing.  The smart-ass god of the dead becoming tongue tied when it came to asking a lady out to dinner.  Who would have expected it?

Cora’s first reaction had been disgust.  Hades was, after all, little more than a petulant idiot.  An evening spent in his company would be interminable.

On further reflection, however…it wouldn’t do to get on Hades’ bad side.

As she suffered through his company that night, a new, brilliant idea came to mind.  If Hades fancied her…what’s to say she couldn’t use that to her definitive advantage?  If she encouraged his affections, cultivated them, who’s to say one day he might not want more?  It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d married a ridiculous man for the benefits the match would bring her.

And what benefits those would be in this case!  We she to marry Hades, god of the dead, she’d be queen of the Underworld and hell.  She’d be a goddess—by marriage at least.  Given a bit of time, she’d likely even find a way to help Hades defeat his brother.

Imagine that!  Goddess of _all_ the afterlife!  It would be glorious.

And so she’d cultivated Hades’ interest in her like a master gardener cultivated her plants.

It had worked like a charm.  Within six months she had him so thoroughly snared, she doubt he’d ever extricate himself again.

Within a year, he’d asked her to be his wife.

Six months after that, there was a wedding in the magnificent ball room of Hades’ mansion.  To say it was _the_ social event of the year was a massive understatement.  Everyone was in attendance, and everyone jockeyed for the best seats. 

Only one small qualm marred the most triumphant day of Cora’s afterlife.  One small check on her spirit.

It happened during the ceremony itself.

Aphrodite herself presided over the ceremony, and did so with great pomp and circumstances, but she was quite the stickler for propriety when it came to the wedding itself.  And so, just before the vows were spoken, she spoke up, insisted on making sure Cora knew exactly what she was getting into.

“Cora, Queen of Hearts,” Aphrodite said in her ethereal tones.  “It is my job to perform your marriage ceremony to Hades, god of the Underworld and of hell.  As such it is incumbent on me to inform you of the terms of the arrangement.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hades said impatiently.  “She’s marrying a god.  What else does she need to do?  Can we get on with it?”

“In a moment, oh great Hades,” she said, frowning at him.  “I will finish what I have to say first.”

“Fine,” he pouted.  “Just…we don’t have all eternity, you know!”

Aphrodite turned back toward Cora.  “To wed a god is utterly different from wedding a human.  Wedding a god fundamentally changes a mortal.  When your vows have been spoken you will be bonded to Hades in a very real way.”

“Well that is the point, isn’t it?” Cora asked.

“Indeed,” Aphrodite said with a nod.  “However that is not all.  The bond of your vows fuses your destiny with that of your husband for all of eternity.  There can be no divorce.  There can be no second thoughts.  Once the vows have been spoken, you belong to Hades and he to you.”

Cora wasn’t entirely sure she was comfortable with the idea, but after taking a deep breath she ruthlessly pushed her concerns aside.  “I have no intention of ever seeking a divorce.  Please proceed.”

Aphrodite raised one graceful hand.  “You are aware of all that entails, are you not?  From this moment forward, Hades’ fate is your fate.  Should he ascend to greater power and honor, so shall you.  If he goes down to defeat, so will you.”

The uncomfortable feeling ramped up.  Was she making a wise choice?  What if something should go wrong?  Was there any possibility of his defeat?

After a moment of hesitation, Cora straightened and nodded definitively.  Her fears were ridiculous.  There was utterly no chance Hades could ever be brought down.  “I understand perfectly.  I am ready to pledge myself and my destiny to the god I love.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

“You’re sure?” Cora asked urgently.  “You are absolutely _sure_?”

The short man before her nodded vacantly.  “Yes, my queen.  There is no question.  Emma Swan and her son are even at this moment at Colin Delamer’s home.”

Cora cursed fluently and then took a deep breath willing herself to calm down.  Her fate rested on her ability to think on her feet.  If she gave in to panic now, she’d be lost.

“Very well,” she said in a measured tone.  “Thank you, Henry.  You’ve been a great help.”

The man who had been her husband in life nodded and then headed in the direction of the kitchens.  Henry had died neither a true hero nor a true villain, and so Hades had taken his memories and made him his own personal valet and butler.  The arrangement suited Cora quite well.  The man seemed to remember remnants of their relationship, and thus treated her deferentially.  More to the point, he was an excellent spy.

She only wished he’d had better news for her today.

Well, there was no turning back time around here, so she’d best get busy figuring out how this newest wrinkle would affect her and her husband’s plans.

Taking another deep, fortifying breath, Cora walked to Hades’ study, tapped lightly on the door, and then walked in.  Both Hades and Rumple looked to her as she entered—Hades with his typical big, toothy grin, and Rumple with something resembling suspicion.

“Cora, my love!” Hades said, getting to his feet and embracing her.

She pulled away abruptly, patting at her hair.  “Hades, how many times do I have to tell you!  You’ve _got_ to turn your hair off before you hug me!”

“Sorry,” he said, dousing his hair flames with a click of his fingers.  “Slipped my mind.  Good old Dark One over there and I have been making some big time progress on our plans.  We’re what?  Four days away from enacting them?  Things are coming together perfectly!”

Cora went to the decanter of whiskey Hades kept on his desk, poured herself a good three fingers and tossed it back.

Rumple’s eyes narrowed yet further.  “Cora,” he said slowly.  “There’s a reason you decided to interrupt us, isn’t there—and it isn’t because you couldn’t stand to be away from your twue wuv for another second?”

Cora took a deliberate seat on the couch beside her husband before answering.  “It seems we have a problem.”

“What’s that, doll?” Hades asked.

“She found him,” Cora said, looking directly at Rumple.  “Emma found Killian.  She and Henry are at his house as we speak.”

“ _WHAT_?”  Hades shouted, getting to his feet and beginning to pace.  “How the _hell_ did that happen?”

Cora shrugged.  “How should I know?”

“Impossible!” Rumple scoffed.  “Even if my plan with Milah failed, there is no _way_ Miss Swan could have found Hook so quickly.  When I left the group she didn’t have a clue where to look.”

“Impossible or not, it happened,” Cora snapped.  “So we can either sit here denying it like ostriches who bury their heads in the sand or we can come up with a plan to deal with the situation.”

“What are ostriches?” Pain asked from his place in the far corner of the room.

“You dolt!” Panic asked.  “You know full well what ostriches are!  We got chased by a whole flock of them after that one mission went south.”

“What mission?” Pain asked.

“The one we’ve decided to call ‘the mission which must not be named’.” Panic answered.

“Oh, _that_ mission,” Pain said, nodding sagely.  “ _Those_ were ostriches?  Rather vengeful bastards aren’t they?”

“ _OUT_!” Hades thundered pointing toward the door.  Pain and Panic evidently knew that tone of voice; they scattered.

When the two idiots had exited the premises, Cora turned back to the others in the room.  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you just how precarious this situation is.”

Rumple smirked.  “Come now, Cora,” he said in a mocking tone.  “This may not be ideal, but let’s not kid ourselves.  Those two were _always_ going to find each other eventually.  Yes, it happened sooner than we’d hoped, but all is not yet lost.”

“Really?” Hades thundered, “because it seems pretty bad from where I’m standing.  The true love couple that can utterly ruin me found each other again.  How can that be anything but an utter catastrophe?”

“Because,” Rumple said, “Colin is still without his memories.  He cannot possibly be in love with a woman he doesn’t even know.  Even should their true love be strong enough to break through the memory charm produced by the curse, it will take time—a commodity that is most definitely on our side.  Four days from now our plan will be set in motion, at which point Miss Swan and Hook can ‘true love’ to their hearts’ content; it won’t do them a damn bit of good.”

Cora shot him a dirty look.  “It seems to me you’ve said similar things quite a bit lately, and invariably you are _wrong_!  You may be content to cross your fingers and hope Miss Swan and the good captain don’t rekindle their romance, but I most certainly am not.  My eternal fate depends on it!”

“And yet,” Rumple said snidely, “I don’t hear you putting forward any better ideas.”

“Can it, Dark One!” Hades thundered, his hair flaming back to life with a vengeance.  “I don’t like the tone you’re taking with my wife.”

“And _I_ don’t like her insistence on besmirching my character!” Rumple responded, getting in Hades’ face.

“Why you…” Hades begun, rolling up his sleeves, and clearly planning to let Rumple have it with both barrels.

Cora stepped between the two men.  “Enough!” she said.  “Things are precarious enough without us _literally_ being at each other’s throats!  Let’s think this thing through!”

Hades glared at Rumple for another moment, still breathing hard, and then abruptly plopped back  onto the couch.  “Got any suggestions baby cakes?”

“I have learned to my peril not to underestimate Miss Swan _or_ True Love,” Cora said thoughtfully.  “Whether we have four days or four minutes before we enact our plan, I don’t trust that ‘Colin’s’ memory curse will be sufficient to stop their love.  The only way forward that I can see is to keep the two of them apart.”

“Yeah, see we _tried_ that,” Rumple said with an eye roll, “it didn’t work.  Miss Swan is with him now, and trust me it’s going to take all our firepower combined to pry her from his side at this point.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hades said.  “True, doubt lover girl’s gonna leave him of her own free will, but what if we…massage the circumstances a bit?”

“In what way?” Cora asked.

“What if we send some terrible illness Colin’s way?” Hades asked.  “Pneumonia or something.  Won’t _really_ affect him, of course since he’s already dead, but it could be pretty damn dangerous to a living person.  Might just be enough to scare Emma Swan away?”

Rumple rolled his eyes again and tutted derisively.  “Clearly you don’t know Emma Swan.  A little thing like a deadly illness isn’t going to sway her for a moment.”

“Maybe not,” Cora said thoughtfully, “but it’s not just her, is it?  Both her and her son are at Colin’s residence.  Even if Emma isn’t concerned for her own health, she won’t risk her boy’s.”

“So it’s settled!” Hades said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.  “Quick little zap of pneumonia and our threat is contained.!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_“Pardon love, but do I know you?”_

For a brief moment, Emma’s heart plummeted.  She’d let herself hope for a moment that when Killian kissed her back that it _meant_ something; it meant he remembered her.

But clearly that wasn’t the case.  She loved him with every fiber of her being, but he didn’t even remember who she was.

_It’s probably how he felt when he first found you in New York,_ her mind pointed out.  The thought brought a smile to her face.  At least he’d taken being kissed at his doorstep by a total stranger better than she had back then.

And then the smile grew.  So what if he didn’t remember her yet?  He was _here_ and he was alive (well…in a manner of speaking) and they were _together_.  The two of them had met “for the first time” so many, many times before, and never once did they fail to fall in love with each other.  This time would be no different.

She just needed to woo him, as he’d done with her so patiently and lovingly.  She could do this!

Gradually, Emma realized an awkward silence had descended as Killian stood waiting patiently for the answer to his question.

“Um..” she said.  “Yeah, we do…well, not really.  I mean _we_ know you, but you don’t know us.  Well, you do, but you don’t remember, and…”

His expressive brows furrowed more and more during her utterly incomprehensible answer, and she felt her cheeks heat.  She was making an absolute idiot of herself!

Henry stepped up and offered Killian his hand, which the older ( _much_ older) man dutifully shook.  “What mom’s trying to say,” Henry said, laughter lacing his voice, “is that it’s complicated.”

“Aye,” Killian answered.  “I’d wager so.”

Henry looked on the point of stepping back again, but abruptly he surged forward, wrapping Killian in an exuberant hug.  “We’re… _I’m_ just really, really happy to see you.”

Killian patted Henry gingerly on the back, tossing Emma an utterly bewildered glance, and then cleared his throat.  “Eh…I’m…glad I could make you happy.”

After another awkward moment, Henry stepped back, big smile on his face.  “My name’s Henry, by the way and this is my mom Emma.”

Killian had been grinning politely, but at Henry’s statement, he took a sharp, indrawn breath, and his eyes widened in evident shock.  He took a small step back, his hand coming up as though to ward them off.

“That’s…” he breathed, “that’s _impossible_.”

“What is?” Emma asked, wondering at his rather intense reaction.  “Do you…do you remember us?”

“Love,” Killian said, shooting her an incredulous glance, “of _course_ I ‘remember’ Emma and Henry!  They are two of the main characters in my novel!”

“You’re writing a book about us?” Henry asked excitedly.  “Really?  What’s it about?”

Killian shook his head as though trying to clear it, and then looked intently from Emma to Henry and then back again.  “This…this can’t be…fictional characters don’t just _show up_ at one’s doorstep!”

“You’d be surprised,” Emma said under her breath.

Emma watched in concern as Killian got progressively more and more panicked.  He ran his hand through his hair, began to pace, muttered under his breath.  Clearly he was working himself into quite the state.

Not knowing what else to do, she stepped forward, placing her hand on his arm.  “Hey,” she said gently.  “It’s okay.”

He stopped his pacing, and looked into her eyes.  “I…I’m not sure it is, love,” he said in a small voice.  “I rather fear I’m losing my mind.”

She reached down and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers.  “It’s okay,” she said again.  “You’re _not_ losing your mind.  I swear you’re not.  There _is_ an explanation for all of this.  It’s…complicated, but I swear there’s an explanation.  Trust me.”

He continued looking into her eyes, seeming to look from one to the other in the way she always did when she was trying to determine whether someone was telling the truth.  Emma kept her expression open and honest, willing herself to remain calm, to impart the calm to him.  After a long moment, he took a deep breath and let it out.

“I do love,” he said.  “I don’t know why…I’m quite sure I’ve never met you before in my life—I’d have remembered knowing you—but I _do_ trust you.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing the hand she still held.

“But,” he said, “this is still a lot to take in.”

“I know it is,” Emma said soothingly, remembering the fear, the panic she’d felt back in New York when Killian had tried to convince her everything she thought she knew was a lie.  “You feel like your entire world has tilted on its axis.  You no longer know which direction is up and which is down.”

“It’s that precisely.”

“Kil-Colin,” she said, “I know how overwhelming this is.  I _do_ , and…and if you need some time to process…if you want Henry and me to leave…”

It would very likely _kill_ her to leave him now after just finding him, but even more, she wanted to erase that look of panic in his eyes.  She wanted to soothe.  If he needed time alone to process all of it, well, she’d deal with it somehow.

Luckily she need not have worried.

“No!” he said quickly.  “I…I don’t know what’s going on.  I don’t understand any of it, but I…I have absolute certainty that to send you and the lad away would be a terrible mistake.”

It took all of her willpower to hold herself back from hugging him, kissing him senseless once again.  Clearly he wasn’t ready for that, yet; he was still quite a ways from remembering them.  She had her work cut out for her.

“Would you…?” he asked hesitantly, “would you like to join me for dinner?”

“No!” Henry shouted.

Killian looked startled and more than a little flustered.

“I mean, yes,” Henry clarified, “we’d like to come in, but…we can’t eat with you.”

“Whyever not, lad?”

“Because,” Henry said, “we’re…um…allergic.”

“But I’ve yet to tell you what’s on the menu.  How can you know you’re allergic?”

“We’re…um…allergic to everything,” Henry said quickly.

Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head and smiling at her son.  “What Henry’s trying to say,” she said, “is that we wouldn’t want to impose.  We…I absolutely want to spend some time with you, but we’re not hungry.”

“Well then I’ll postpone my own repast,” Killian said, ushering the two of them into his foyer.  “I don’t wish to be rude.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emma said.  “We don’t mind if you eat.  Go about your normal routine; forget we’re here.”

“Impossible,” he breathed.  He reached up and fingered a curl that had slipped over her shoulder…and then pulled back his hand quickly, looking abashed at his own forwardness.  He cleared his throat.  “Eh…if you would just follow me, perhaps you could keep me company as I prepare my dinner.”

“I’d like nothing better,” Emma answered.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dinner was a pleasant affair—even with the awkwardness of the situation.  Killian prepared himself a simple meal of a chicken breast seasoned with lemon pepper, seasoned rice, and green beans.  He insisted again that they join him for dinner, but once again Emma declined.  Last thing they needed was to be stuck down here forever.  Eventually Killian shrugged, and dug into his own meal.

The three of them shared pleasantries and small talk.   This version of Killian was different—far more tentative and far less flirtatious, but she still saw more than a few glimmers of the man she loved in this stranger before her.

Only one particularly jarring moment marred the otherwise pleasant meal.  Henry made an off-hand suggestion that Killian accompany them back to the docks, maybe take them on a sail.

Killian had sucked in a quick breath and shook his head violently.  “Apologies lad, but I absolutely _could not_ do such a thing.”

“Why not?” Emma asked, eyes wide in surprise at his reaction.

“Because to do so, I’d have to leave my house,” Killian said simply.

“Well…yeah…” Emma said.

“And that is something I simply cannot do,” he continued.  “If there is one thing I know without any doubt, it’s that if I leave the safety of my home bad things will happen.”

“ _What_ bad things?” Henry asked.

Killian looked confused for a moment.  “I don’t rightly know, but it would be utterly daft to test it and find out.”

Apparently, Hades had really done a job on the man before her if he was literally afraid to leave his own home!

An awkward silence had descended for a moment before Henry started talking about school. 

When dinner came to an end, Henry asked if Killian would let him read what he’d written in his book so far.  Killian had been hesitant at first, but had eventually assented.

And so Emma and Killian were left alone.

“Would you…would you like to sit with me in the living room, love?” Killian asked.  “Perhaps we could talk?”

“I’d love that,” she said, taking a seat beside him—as close as she dared.  Almost of its own accord, her hand found his, lacing their fingers.  He looked surprised for a moment, but didn’t pull back.  Emma thought that was a rather good sign.

“Emma…” he began hesitantly, “not that I’m not enjoying your company, but why are you here?  What is going on?”

Emma wished fervently she had his eloquence, his uncanny ability to find the perfect words in _every_ circumstance.  Good grief!  The man had managed to convince her to drink a strange potion from an even stranger man within the space of 24 hours back in New York!

She didn’t have either his eloquence _or_ a memory potion, so she’d just have to muddle through the best she could.

“When you opened your door to us, you looked surprised—almost shocked,” she said, rather than answer his question, “Why was that?”

He disentangled their fingers and reached up to scratch behind his ear.  It was a gesture so typically _Killian_ that it nearly brought Emma to tears.  A moment later, he laced their fingers again, and then met her eyes.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” he said slowly.  “Strange, vivid dreams that I can’t explain.  Dreams that almost always involve _you_ …or at least someone who looks identical to you.”

“Have you really?” Emma asked, trying to keep her excitement at bay.  Surely if he was dreaming about her it was a good sign, right?  It proved he—the _real_ him was still buried inside there somewhere.  “I’d love to hear about them.”

“Maye later,” Killian said, glancing aside again, the tips of his ears reddening (making Emma even more curious about the content of those dreams).  “For now, you didn’t answer my question.  What is going on, love?”

“Things,” she said slowly, “well, they aren’t exactly what they seem.  I can’t explain—because I’m pretty sure you’d think I deserved to be in the loony bin if I tried—but, well there’s a whole different—reality—out there.  One that’s _true_.  Right now…well, you’re living a lie.”

She watched as Killian sucked in a deep breath.  “Aye…” he said.  “I have begun to wonder….things lately have seemed rather odd.  It feels as though _something_ simply isn’t right.”

Emma squeezed his hand, moving even closer to him on the loveseat.  “Trust your gut, Colin!  You _know_ something is off.  Just… _trust_ yourself!”

He was silent for another long moment, and then he glanced aside.  “In this other…reality…you speak of, were we…I sense, given the way you greeted me at my door, that we were close?”

Emma laughed.  “You know, once before you asked me nearly the same question.  Let’s just hope my evil father doesn’t show up and stab you to death this time.”

He shot her a shocked look.  “P..Pardon?”

“Nevermind,” she said.  “it was just…I don’t even have a _clue_ how to begin to try to explain the insanity that was that alternate universe to you!  Don’t worry; my dad might show up here, but he’s not evil, and he’s certainly not going to stab anyone!”

“That’s…a relief…”

“But in answer to your question,” Emma said, “Yes.  We were very close.  Like ‘very much in love and picking out house to live together in’ close.”

“Truly?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.  “Well whichever the true reality is, I’d say I rather like the sound of yours.”

Emma laughed.  “Yeah, me too.”

She watched as his eyes flickered to her lips, and her heartrate picked up in response.  He released her hand, and brought his own to the back of her head, urging her gently forward.  She went more than willingly, sighing in contentment as his lips hovered just above hers.

At the last moment, Killian wrenched himself away, turning his head and coughing, long, drawn out, wrenching coughs that seemed violent enough to crack his ribs.  Emma sat back in more than a little concern, her hand going to his back, wondering what on earth had just happened.

As the coughing fit went on, showing little intention of subsiding, Emma hurried to the kitchen and poured him a glass of water.  After sipping at it, Killian’s cough finally calmed.  He took deep breaths, falling back against the sofa.

“What…what just _happened_?” she asked.  “Killian are you okay?”

In her shock, she didn’t even realize she’d used his real name.  From his lack of reaction, he hadn’t noticed the slip either.

“I…I don’t know,” he said in a thick voice.  “I suddenly feel quite ill.”

Emma sat back beside him, putting her hand to his forehead, and then abruptly pulling it away.  “You’re burning up!”

“Bloody hell,” he said weakly, coughing once more.  “I felt perfectly healthy five minutes ago.  What is going _on_ here?”

He began coughing again, and Emma urged him to take another sip of water.  This…this was not good.  It had the feel of magic to it.  Whatever was going on was a potential _big_ problem.

“Just lie back,” Emma said soothingly.  “That’s it.  Relax.  Where’s your medicine cabinet?  I’ll see if I can find you some aspirin or something.”

He reached up and weakly grabbed her arm, as another coughing spasm gripped him.  He took a deep breath, getting his cough under control, and then looked imploringly up at her.  “Perhaps you should go, love,” he said.  “I don’t wish you or the lad to fall ill.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Killian,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “I’m not leaving you here alone and sick.  I’ll go talk to Henry, send him back to the others I came here with, but I’m _not_ leaving you.”

“But..”

“No buts.  Now, the medicine cabinet?” she said firmly.

“Bathroom at the top of the stairs,” he wheezed, evidently realizing arguing with her was futile.  “And…thank you.”

She reached down and smoothed his hair out of his face.  “You’re welcome.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Now just relax; I’ll be right back.”

Emma moved slowly, soothingly until she’d exited the living room, and then nearly ran to the study where Henry was happily clicking through Killian’s manuscript.

“Hey mom!” Henry said when she appeared.  “This is awesome!  He may not really remember; he may think it’s just his imagination, but what he’s writing her is his _actual_ story!  I think he’s...”

Slowly Henry became aware that something was wrong.

“Mom…” he said, “what’s the matter?”

“I think Hades…or Cora…or _someone_ knows we’re here.  We’ve got a problem, kid.”

“What?” Henry asked, getting abruptly to his feet.  “What happened?”

“Killian and I were talking, and all of the sudden he started coughing,” Emma said, pacing.  “He’s burning up with fever; I think he’s really sick.”

“You think it’s Hades’ fault?” Henry asked.

“I can’t think anything else,” Emma said.  “That illness came on _way_ too fast for it to be natural.  I think Hades is trying to scare us away.”

“But…” Henry said worriedly, “you don’t think it’s, like, _dangerous_ for Killian, do you?”

Emma shook her head quickly.  “He’s already dead; what more can Hades really do to him?  I think _he’ll_ be fine, but…well, we might be in danger.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said, stopping before him.   “Listen kid, if Hades thinks he’s gonna scare me away from the man I love when he _needs_ me, he’s delusional, but you’ve gotta go.”

“What?” Henry asked, crossing his arms and getting that stubborn look in his eyes.  “No!  I don’t want to leave you guys!  I can help too!”

Emma took his arms.  “I _know_ you’re concerned about him, and I know you could help, but please, Henry.  Just listen to me on this.  I need to know you’re safe.  I can’t take care of Killian and worry about you getting sick too.  Look, go find your grandparents or your other mom.  Tell them what’s going on.  _Please!_ ”

Henry looked stubborn for another moment, and then his face fell.  “Okay, I’ll go find someone.  Just…be careful.”

Emma hugged him tightly for a moment.  “I will.  And don’t worry kid; things are going to be okay.”

_Notes:_

_\--So, Cora is very invested in Hades not being defeated, because if he’s defeated…so is she.  His fate is hers.  It might just make her increasingly desperate to stop Emma and co…_

_\--I hope you liked the Captain Cobra Swan scenes!  It’s taken so long to get them together, I wanted to give them a nice happy little moment before things started hitting the fan again!  Clearly Cora and Hades’ big plan to make Killian really sick and scare Emma away failed miserably.  Really guys?  You_ really _thought Emma would just shrug, say “you’re on your own dude” and flee from the house by the sea?  Y’all just don’t understand love_ at all _, do you?_

_\--Up next: Back in time, we follow Hercules on his next set of adventures.  He makes quite a sensation on his quest to become a true hero.  Hades gets wind of it and starts to become_ really _concerned.  In the present, we check in with Regina and Robin and see what they find out on their mission.  Meanwhile, Henry finds Snowing and Hercules and fills them in on the “Killian is really, really sick” situation._


	14. Chapter 14

_Underworld, a few years before the 1 st dark curse_

For the first month or two after the Fates’ last visit, Hades stewed about the prophecy.  He tried not to, of course, telling himself over and over again that the ladies were full of crap.  Seriously, who had given them an advanced degree in prognostication?  Even Fates can be wrong sometimes, right?

Granted, he’d never heard of a time it had happened, but there’s a first time for everything.  Who’s to say this whole “Hades will rise up and defeat you” prophecy wouldn’t be that first time?

Still, as much as he may to tell himself the ladies were pulling his leg, he couldn’t quite convince himself of the fact.  And so the first couple of months after their visit, Hades had been particularly on edge, jumping at shadows, expecting every day to learn some terrible thing about Hercules regaining his god status and gearing up for war.

But as the months passed with no news at all of Hercules—no feats of heroics, no communing with the gods, no plans for Underworld domination, no vows of revenge against his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad uncle, Hades finally started breathing normally again.

After all, even if the Fates _were_ correct, he had some time, right?  Five years was plenty of time to come up with a brilliant and devious plan to neutralize his nephew.

Hades gradually relaxed to the point of putting the terrible prophecy out of his head altogether, and so it was that he settled into his easy chair and put his aching feet up on his ottoman, contemplating the generous slice of devil’s food cake his maid had brought him. 

It had been a busy but ultimately rewarding day.  About a century ago he’d gotten the bright idea to throw a “founder’s day” celebration each year to celebrate the day he’d cast the curse.  Nothing like a big party at the home and grounds of the “Distinguished Gentleman” to boost the morale of his slaves…er Underworld residents.

And boosting their morale had tremendous benefits for him as well.  He’d tried the whole “big bad devil” routine—you know, fire, brimstone, torture, all of that, and while it did motivate people to an extent, it was _exhausting_. The thing about ruling with an iron fist and with fear is that you could _never_ let up.  You give people a single moment of respite, they start grumbling and stop working. 

But when you manipulate people into doing your will by making them think you were the greatest thing since sliced bread, they’ll be putty in your hands.

Thus the yearly “founder’s day” celebration.  He’d throw a fantastic shindig on his property every year—food, games, speeches about how much he appreciated all of them, the occasional big extravagant give away.  (One year he gave a way a brand new car to each and every citizen of his town, and the resulting gratitude was enough to keep the whole clan working for a good six months.)

Today’s celebration had been equally satisfactory, if not quite so extravagant.  He’d had Pain and Panic swipe a bag of fairy dust when they were last on earth (and wonder of wonders, they’d actually _succeeded_ with no problems whatsoever).  He’d sprinkled the stuff over the whole town, creating a hazy, pleasant high.  Suffice it to say, by the end of the event, everyone was feeling really, really good.

Hades took a bite of his cake and sighed in contentment.  It was good; really good.  He snapped his fingers, and his valet rushed to his side with an officious bow.

“How might I serve you tonight, master?”

“My dogs are barking big time tonight,” Hades said, motioning to his feet.  “Could use a massage.”

The man bowed again, and then seated himself at Hades’ feet, slipped off his shoes and began massaging.  Ah, this was the afterlife!  Hades finished his cake, and then settled back in his chair and closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh. 

He was on the point of falling asleep, soothed by the pleasant sensation of the foot massage, when suddenly his study door burst open, and a very, well, _panicked_ Pain and Panic burst through.

Hades yelped, startled, and his hair flared to life (causing his easy chair to temporarily go up in flames before he doused it).  Hades cursed fluently as he got to his feet and glared down at his minions.

“I’ve had a long day and I’m tired,”  Hades growled once he’d exhausted his entire vocabulary of curse words—twice, “and you two knuckleheads burst in here like the town’s on fire?  This better be damn important or you two are going to regret it.  Big time.”

“Um…” Pain said, gulping audibly.  “I’m pretty sure we’re going to regret it anyway, but we discussed it, and ultimately decided we’d probably regret it more if we _didn’t_ tell you what we know.”

“Yeah,” Panic said, nodding solemnly.  “I mean you’re not big on nasty surprises.  Not that I blame you.  I mean, nasty surprises tend to freak me out too.  Actually surprises in general.  Why do people like to be surprised?  Me?  I’d much rather know what’s coming so I can prepare myself.  Cuts way down on the panic that way.  I mean, it doesn’t take it away, because, hello, the world is a panicky place, but it does help, and…”

“Tell me the damn news before I use my hair to light the two of you up like Roman candles!” Hades thundered, feeling the vain in his forehead begin to pulse.

“Well…” Pain said, cowering and taking a step or two away.  “It’s…it’s about Hercules.”

Hades felt a cold chill travel up his spine.  “What about Hercules?”

“Well, you see, it’s like this,” Panic said cautiously.  “His human dad kicked him out, so he decided to go on this big, long quest to find out who he really is.”

“And?”

“And…” Pain said, “he got a tip from a certain outlaw that he might be able to find some answers in the Temple of the Gods.”

The cold chill intensified.  “And he took the tip?”

“Yeah,” Panic said.  “Went to the temple and ended up contacting….”

“Yes?  Who did he end up contacting?”

Pain gulped and shied even further away.  “Zeus,” he said slowly.

The cold chill was now like Siberia in the dead of winter.  No!  This couldn’t be happening.  “And just why the hell would he do that?”

“Seems he recognized Zeus’s lightning bolt totem.  It’s the birthmark on his arm you know.”

Hades started pacing hoping against hope that that was the extent of the bad news.  “What’d he learn.”

“The inevitable,” Pain said.  “Zeus told him who he really is and…and…he told him about the prophecy.”

Hades groaned, covering his face with his hand.  “But he’s still mortal right?  Nothing he can do from the Enchanted Forest.  We’re still good?”

“Well…” Panic answered.  “The thing is Zeus also told him…sort of…how to win back his god status.  Told him he had to become a true hero.”

“And,” Pain continued, “Hercules threw himself into the task with a vengeance.  Started learning how to control his super-human strength and use it to his advantage.  He’s making quite a name for himself up there.  So far, he’s saved a family from a burning building, stopped a bridge collapse, pulled a horse cart off of a man after a traffic accident, and defeated a whole family of ogres with his bare hands.”

 “Oh,” Panic said, “and you know that ballroom collapse we’ve been working toward for months?  The one that was going to bring us a whole influx of new drones?  Yeah, he stopped that too.”

This was….potentially catastrophic!  How could everything be so fine and dandy for months and then suddenly go south so quickly?  “At least tell me it hasn’t done anything toward restoring his godhood,” Hades pleaded.

“Unfortunately,” Pain said, clearly reluctantly, “after the last feat of heroics, I happened to catch a glimpse of his birthmark.  A good quarter of it is now glowing.”

Oh this was bad.  This was really, _really_ bad.  Hercules probably had no idea, but the birthmark was far, far more than a mere discoloration of his skin.  It was a barometer of sorts.  The more it glowed, the more infused with godhood he was.  If it was now a quarter of the way filled with light…well, things were already reaching critical mass.

“We’ve got to stop him; got to destroy him _now_ while he’s still partially mortal,” Hades said.

“How we gonna do that?” Pain asked.

“His feats of heroics might work just fine and dandy on things of earth—collapsing buildings, ogres, all that stuff, but how well do you think they’ll work against a hell beast?”

“Well, I mean, he is partially a god,” Panic said, “I’d say the odds are fifty-fifty.”

Hades glare was nearly enough to kill.

“That’s why we need to strike _now_ , before he gains back any more of his godhood.”

“So who you planning to send?” Pain asked.

“I think it’s time I let Cerberus off his leash.  I think good old Hercules is going to find a three-headed hell-dog more of a challenge than he can handle.”

_Underworld, present day_

Robin glanced surreptitiously at the woman standing beside him.  They’d been searching for a couple of hours now, and to date had found nothing of note.  As they continued on their way, Regina had become more and more withdrawn.

He knew this mood of hers.  She was distressed, almost defeated.  He longed to do something, anything to soothe her, restore her hope, but he hadn’t a clue what to do.

They’d approached the mayor’s mansion first—taking care to remain hidden until they were sure they were alone on the grounds.   It was strange—seeing Regina’s house, his house for the past month or so, looking so familiar and yet so different.

He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was _wrong_ ; nothing seemed particularly changed or out of place.  All he could say is that the place gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, rather like a nightmare where things are only slightly distorted.

They’d searched the house quickly, looking for _anything_ that would give them information on Cora’s plans and activities.

They’d come up empty.

Perhaps they would have had more success with a more detailed search—rifling through drawers, perusing ledgers and other documents—but neither felt comfortable spending so much time in the such a dangerous place.  There was no way of knowing when Madam Mayor herself might return and if they were caught…well, the consequences could be rather ghastly.

They’d gone from the mayor’s mansion to the even more dangerous mayor’s office in town hall.  The act, had, of necessity brought them in contact with various and sundry town folk, and as they walked, Regina became more and more morose; more and more tense.

“My love,” Robin had finally said in a low voice, “you’ve no need to fear.  I know you feel exposed, devoid as you are of your magic, but I’m more than capable of protecting us should the need arise.”

She’d given him a blank stare, and then her face had softened.  She’d reached up and given him a quick peck on the lips.  “Thanks,” she said, “but I’m not concerned.  None of the people of the town seem to be giving us a second glance.  Assuming we don’t come in contact with my mother herself, we should be perfectly safe.”

She’d turned back to the task at hand, then—eyeing town hall critically to determine their best course of action—and he’d frowned slightly.  If she wasn’t concerned for their safety, what _was_ bothering her?  He knew her well enough to know _something_ was.

But he had no time to mull over the topic at the time, as Regina had determined the side entrance provided the greatest likelihood they could approach the mayor’s office undetected.  He’d followed her, his hand ready at any moment to reach for his bow should it be necessary, but once again, they need not have worried.  They met with no resistance and no Cora.

And, for that matter, no useful information.  Regina had cursed fluently as soon as they’d regained the woods after their latest failed venture.

“She has nothing useful at her house, nothing useful at her office.  What do we do now?” Regina had asked irritably, pacing back and forth, arms crossed, and eyes flashing.

Robin had thought for a moment or two and then offered his own suggestion.  “We know that Cora is wed to Hades,” Robin said, “and I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before, but her house—the Underworld’s version of _our_ house—appeared particularly empty, as though it hadn’t been lived in for quite some time.”

Regina shot him a puzzled look.  “You think so?  There was no dust, no cobwebs, no indications that I could see that spoke of disuse.”

“True enough,” Robin agreed, “but there were also no personal touches.  No dirty glasses sitting by the sink, no book on the bedside table, no mail on the kitchen table—if even such a thing as the postal service exists within hell—no fruit within the hanging fruit basket.  _Nothing_ , in short, to indicate someone is living within the house’s four walls.”

“That’s true,” Regina agreed with a nod.  “So, what do you think that tells us?”

“I’d wager your mother is living with her new husband.”

“My new step-father—the devil,” Regina said dryly under her breath.  “I think you might be on to something.  How about we go check out Hades’ place.  Didn’t we hear he lives in the Underbrooke version of the sorcerer’s mansion?”

“Aye,” Robin said, “I believe so.”

And so they’d made their way here, to the magnificent grounds of the sorcerer’s mansion.  Whatever Hades’ views on the beautification of the town itself, he certainly had standards for his own domicile.  Intricate gardens appeared to be cultivated within an inch of their lives.  The lawn was lush and green, the grass cut to the perfect length.  Beds of flowers surrounded the house itself, and the lake beyond fairly sparkled.  It apparently paid well to be the lord of the dead.

Robin looked carefully from side to side, determined there was no one around, and took a quick step forward.

A moment later he was sprawled upon his back, having been violently thrust aside by some sort of invisible force field.

“Robin!” Regina said quickly, rushing to his side.

He groaned, sitting up and grimacing as he put his hand to his aching head—and felt the wet, sticky sensation of blood from the place his head struck a small stone.

Regina made a distressed sound and waved her hand over his head, growling in evident annoyance when she remembered she was no longer in possession of her magic and was no longer capable of quickly healing wounds.

“It’s no matter, my love,” he said quickly, taking her hand in his own, “it’s naught but a scratch.”

She looked unconvinced for a moment, but he was careful to not so much as wince as he got to his feet, and the action seemed to put her mind at ease.

“What _was_ that?” Robin asked, eyeing the invisible barrier with more than a hint of suspicion.

“Protection spell, I’d guess,” Regina answered, stepping forward—far more cautiously than Robin had.  She extended her hand, and he watched as it bounced away.  “A rather simple one, by the feel of it.  If I had my magic I could take it down with the snap of my fingers, but as it is…well, I’d say we can’t move any closer to the mansion than we are now.”

“So how should we proceed?”

“I guess our best bet is to what Miss Swan would call a stake out,” Regina answered.  “We wait here, keep watch, and see if anything happens that might be useful.”

Robin nodded.  “Perhaps we could make ourselves comfortable here in this stand of trees as we wait?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know why not.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, both looking toward the house, both willing _something_ to happen to give them a break in the current stalemate.  But the minutes continued and they saw nothing more interesting than a small rabbit rushing across the yard in the direction of the vegetable garden.

Robin noticed once again just how tense Regina was.  He reached out, laid his hand gently on her arm.  She jumped, taking in a quick, surprised breath and turning startled eyes his direction.

“My apologies,” he said quickly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.

She put a hand to her chest, and then closed her eyes, visibly trying to calm herself.  “It’s okay.  I guess I’m just a little jumpy.”

He looked at her for another moment before deciding to address his concerns.  “Is there something wrong, Regina,” he asked.  “You seem particularly distressed this afternoon.”

She shrugged, turning aside and looking back toward the mansion.  “Not really surprising, is it?  We are, after all in hell.  Kind of a distressing place.”

“That’s true enough,” he answered, “but your distress seems greater now than it’s been at any point in our adventure.  Has something additional happened to upset you?”

She gave him a pained look before taking his hand and moving closer to him.  He laced their fingers and squeezed gently, hoping to give her strength and comfort.

“It’s just…” Regina said.  “Those children we saw on the way over here.  I wondered…Robin do you think we did the right thing leaving Roland and the baby behind like we did?”

“I hardly think hell is an appropriate place for a family vacation, my love,” he said.

“That’s not what I meant,” Regina said with a shake of her head.  “I meant, did we make the right choice coming down here at all.  After all Zelena’s done lately…and then all the mess with Miss Swan and then Hook becoming Dark Ones, I can’t help but be concerned about our kids left at home without us to protect them.”

Robin smiled, his heart warming at her use of the word “our” with regard to his son and daughter.  “I owe Emma Swan my life,” Robin said simply, “and Killian has become quite a friend.  I’m not sure how we could do other than what we’ve done.”

Regina sighed.  “I know,” she said.  “And, as annoying as the one-handed wonder can be at times, if the truth be told, if he was gone for good, I’d feel his absence.  I just wish being a hero, trying to save our friends, didn’t require us to leave our children behind.”

Robin took her into his arms and held her close, rubbing a hand over her back comfortingly.  “I am uneasy leaving them behind as well, but there’s naught we can do about it.  Besides, I have complete confidence in Mother Superior and the others in town who will keep our little ones safe.”

She let him hold her for another moment, and then sat back, looking marginally less concerned.  But there were still shadows in her eyes.

“Is there something else the matter?” he prompted.

She sighed deeply.  “The people we saw in town?” Regina said, looking up at him.  “Yes, the children made me think of Roland and the baby, but there was more than that.”

“What about the town’s folk troubled you?”

“I…recognized many of them,” Regina said.  “Many of them were my victims back when I was hell bent on my revenge against Snow White.  Robin…some of the things I did while I was the Evil Queen…”

He stopped her with a slash of his hand.  “We’ve discussed this,” he said gently.  “That woman, the one who did terrible things?  That’s not you any longer.  You’ve changed; you’ve become a true hero.”

Regina smiled gratefully at him.  “I want to believe that’s true,” she said, and then she turned aside again, “and most of the time I do believe it, but the thing is, coming down here, seeing my victims, knowing that what I did to them sent them down here to this Purgatory that they’ll never be free of….it really hits home the extent of my villainy, the way my actions affected others.”

Robin was silent for several moments, knowing how important her pain was, wanting to avoid a glib response that wouldn’t give it its due.  Finally he spoke.  “I’m well aware of the pain of regrets, of remorse.  I’ve done my share of things I wish I could change, things that have hurt others.”

She scoffed. “I’m sure the bad things you’ve done are not even in the same league as mine.  Compared to me you’re a boy scout.”

“Perhaps,” Robin acknowledged, “but remorse, repentance is similar no matter the offense.  It’s tempting to wallow in the self-loathing, seeing the distress you’ve caused others, but you mustn’t give in.  You must resist it.”

“How does a person go about that?”

“By living in the present,” Robin said.  “There’s naught you can do to change the past.  All you can do is change your life moving forward, attempt to make amends to the best of your abilities.”

“But how can I do that?” she asked with a frustrated motion of her hand.  “These people?  My greatest victims?  They’re stuck here, trapped.  They don’t even know who they _are._ I have no way to make amends to them—they don’t even know I wronged them.”

“All the more reason to succeed in our endeavors, is it not?” Robin asked.  “Should we be successful in not only saving Killian, but also in helping Hercules with his task, perhaps you’ll get the chance to offer apologies to your former victims.”

Regina laughed self-deprecatingly.  “I’m sure an apology will make everything better,” she said sarcastically.

“Perhaps not,” Robin agreed, “but if Hades’ hold over this place is broken, perhaps your apology, your attempt to make amends will be just what is needed to send these wounded souls on to their eternal reward.”

He saw the hope shine from her eyes, the dawning belief that perhaps there was redemption, real and complete redemption, to be found for the former Evil Queen.  She opened her mouth to respond, but then quickly jerked her head in the direction of the mansion. 

Robin followed her line of sight, curious what she’d seen, and he watched as the ponderous front door opened and a short, balding man stepped outside.  Regina gasped.  “Father!” she breathed.

A moment later the man was followed by a woman who must be Cora and…Mr. Gold.

“Son of a bitch!” Regina bit out.

It took no great wit to see that Cora and Gold were on rather friendly terms.  They smiled as they talked, and after a few moments, shook hands.  Gold turned away and started down the porch steps, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Robin felt the anger rise up.  “Emma was right,” he said in a hard voice.  “Rumplestiltskin is most assuredly not to be trusted.”

“That scaly golden imp is _never_ to be trusted,” Regina said bitterly, “but I had no idea he’d go this far.  Actually _working_ with our enemies!  What the _hell_ is he getting out of it, and what does that mean for us?”

“Nothing good I’d wager,” Robin said.

“Well, this is just _great,_ ” Regina spat.  “Wonderful!  Now I’d say none of us are safe.  If Rumple’s all buddy-buddy with my mother and Hades who knows _what_ he’s told them about us and our mission and our base of operations and… _everything_.”

“So what do we do now?” Robin asked.

“We find the others; warn them what we know, then we look for a new home base,” Regina said.  “Let’s just hope to hell Miss Swan’s having success winning Killian’s love and reminding him who he is, because I have a terrible feeling time’s running out for us.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--So in the past, Hercules is making progress toward heroism, and in the present, Regina and Robin have learned just exactly how much Rumple’s betraying them.  Let’s just hope forewarned is forearmed!_

_\--One thing I like about the way it looks like actual canon will go in 5b is that various characters will really get a chance to confront their pasts and really move on from them.  There’s not really time/space to get into a lot of that in this particular fic, but I did want to give Regina a bit of self-awareness and understanding of the consequences of her actions (which, I think she has to some extent in canon, but I don’t think she’s_ quite _there yet—getting much closer, but not quite there.)  Maybe Robin’s right.  Maybe she’ll be able to make amends by helping some of her victims to move on._

_\--Up next: Back in time, Hades sends Cerberus after Hercules.  It doesn’t work exactly as Hades hoped.  In the present, we head back to the house by the sea and see how Emma’s faring when it comes to caring for a very sick Killian—as well as when it comes to winning his heart._


	15. Chapter 15

_Underworld, present day_

Colin took a deep, ragged breath—and immediately regretted it as it triggered another long, violent coughing spasm. He reached a shaking hand to the coffee table where Emma had left his glass of water.  Taking several small, cautious sips, he finally got the cough under control again…for the moment.

This day had been nothing short of a whirlwind, and he hadn’t a clue what to make of it. How could _anyone_ make sense of it?  Who wouldn’t be off-kilter after opening his door to find the literal woman of his dreams at his doorstep?  Who wouldn’t fear more than a little for his sanity when that dream woman went on to introduce herself as the heroine of the novel he was writing?

And if that wasn’t all disconcerting enough, he was suddenly, _very_ suddenly, stricken with a terrible and rather violent illness.  Who heard of such a thing?  He hadn’t suffered so much as a sniffle ten minutes ago and now he felt as though a swamp had taken up residence within his lungs, as though he was drowning, as though he was burning from within, as though thousands of tiny men with hammers were pounding on the inside of his skull.

It was utterly unaccountable.

He hardly knew how to begin to process his thoughts about all of it. The woman, Emma Swan had asked him to trust her, and he did—completely, thoroughly, without question.  He knew she was more than worthy of his trust.

How he knew this, he had no idea.

What she said, what she and the lad had spent the evening attempting to make him believe—it was crazy. Talk of alternate realities where he was an entirely different person and had led an entirely different life…well, a rational man would dismiss it out of hand (and perhaps even call the authorities to deal with the insane people speaking such nonsense).

But he was obviously not as rational as he liked to pride himself on being, because he didn’t, _couldn’t_ dismiss what Emma was saying.  Something about her words felt more real than anything had in a long, long time.

She’d asked him to trust his gut, and his gut was leading him straight to her.

Colin heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Emma stepped into the room. His heart leapt at the sight of her.  She was so bloody beautiful.  But it was more than her outward appearance.  Everything about her appealed to him.  He was a fan of every part of her.

_How can you be a fan of every part of someone when you don’t even know them?_ The logical part of his brain asked.  It was a rational question, but somehow…somehow it was the wrong question to ask.

Because he _did_ know her.  He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why he was so utterly convinced of this, but he was.

Emma moved toward him and sat on the edge of the couch on which he lay. “So I told Henry what’s going on,” she said, taking his hand in a gesture it appeared she didn’t even realize she was making.  “He’s getting ready to leave.  He’ll look for my parents or his other mother.”

“His other mother?” Colin asked, brow furrowed.

“Long story,” Emma said with a smile, “but the Readers’ Digest version is that she adopted him when…when I had to give him up as a newborn. I was in a really bad place—literally and figuratively—and I couldn’t take care of him.  Luckily Regina was the mom I couldn’t be during that first decade of his life.”

Colin heard the pain in her voice when she spoke of giving her son up. “I’m sorry love,” he croaked, glad he could get the words out without triggering the cough once again..

She shrugged and smiled sadly. “Well, it was a long time ago,” she said dismissively, “and the fake memories Regina gave me did manage to dull the pain of it, even if they were completely made up.”

She spoke in riddles, this Swan of his. ( _Why did he think of her as “his” Swan?_ )  How was he to understand her matter-of-fact discussion of false memories?  She spoke as though it was as normal a topic of conversation as the weather.

“Well,” Colin said, “I’m glad the lad has left. I wouldn’t wish to transmit this illness to him.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wish you to either,” she said. He heard his front door shut quietly, and he knew Henry had left just as his mother said.  She glanced worriedly in the direction.

“Something troubling you, love?”

She turned toward him, her brow furrowed. “I just…hope I did the right thing sending him away.  I hope nothing happens to him out there.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Colin said confidently…and then broke into another fit of coughing. When he once again got it under control, he continued.  “Underbrooke is a peaceful place.  Nearly non-existent crime rate.  No harm will come to your lad while he searches for his mother and grandparents.”

She turned back in the direction of the front door, the worry still evident on her features. “I hope you’re right.”

After a moment, she took a deep breath, and turned back toward him, deliberately smoothing her brow of the concern she obviously felt. She looked down at her hand in surprise, as though only now becoming aware of the bottle it held.

“Oh yeah,” she said, popping the top and shaking two oblong pills into her hand, “I almost forgot. Your aspirin.”

He took them with a muttered thanks, and then fell back against the throw pillow, utterly spent.

Emma looked at him in concern once more. “This couch can’t be that comfortable. How about I take you to bed?”

For a split second, Colin had the strongest urge to wink salaciously and toss her an outlandish innuendo. But the urge passed, and Colin reached automatically up to scratch at the spot behind his ear, embarrassed at the mere thought.  What manner of gentleman _was_ he?

When he merely nodded, saying, “Aye love, perhaps that’s best,” Emma shot him a strange, almost disappointed look.

And he knew deep within that had he followed his instincts and made the comment that was on the tip of his tongue, she would have smiled and playfully rolled her eyes. She would be instantly more at ease, despite the strangeness of the situation, his exaggerated nonsense working just as he’d intended it.

But the moment had passed, as did the disappointed look on her face. Emma helped him to his feet, and flung his arm over her shoulders, taking as much of his weight as she could hold as she helped him up the stairs. 

( _Why did he have so many stairs? Climbing to his second story was like climbing Mount Everest._ )

He was out of breath by the time she steered him into his bedroom—which he’d pointed out as soon as they’d reached the top of the stairs. She made a strangled, distressed sound as she pushed the door open and looked inside.

Colin glanced around, wondering what it was that distressed her. His bedroom looked perfectly neat and orderly, just as he’d left it that morning.  The large, canopied king-sized bed, made with navy precision, the magnificent bay window, with its view of Colin’s beloved sea, perfectly tidy, not an article of clothing out of place.

What about this room should upset her so greatly?

“What is the matter, Swan?” he asked, as he collapsed on top of the cerulean blue comforter.

“Nothing,” she said in a thick voice.

He shook his head back and forth on the pillow. “No, it is most assuredly something.  You looked as though you’d burst into tears when you caught sight of my room.”

She turned toward him and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re right…” she said softly, reaching up to smooth his unruly hair out of his face.  “I just…I just don’t know how to explain it.  It would sound utterly crazy to you.”

“Try me,” he said. “You’ve spoken many crazy things during this day, and I’ve yet to be shocked witless.”

She grinned, caressing his stubbled cheek, letting her thumb linger on the scar below his eye. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point.  Alright, so here it goes.  Not that long ago, in that other reality I told you about, you and I were kind of…estranged.  I had a…problem…and I didn’t want my toxic situation to hurt anyone else, so I kind of isolated myself.”

Colin reached up and covered the hand resting on his cheek. “Your son, and those parents you speak of wouldn’t have minded whatever level of toxicity your problem may have generated—for that matter, neither would I—you could have turned to us for help.”

She shot him a surprised look. “How do you know that?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know, Swan.  I just…do.”

She smiled then and nodded in satisfaction. “Maybe you’re starting to remember.  Anyway, back to my story.  Yeah, I know you all would have helped me, and it would have been much better if I trusted you with my problem.  I just…well, everything was crumbling because of some very bad decisions I’d made, and I thought, you know, it was my mess to clean up.”

“It must have been lonely, having such heartache and being utterly alone,” Colin said, seeing it clearly on Emma’s face. He found, to his surprise, that with every passing moment he was more attuned to her, with every passing moment he was more able to read her like an open book.

And then another fit of coughing struck him. Emma helped him sit up, and rubbed his back soothingly as he continued to cough, feeling as though his lungs wished to dislodge themselves from his very chest.  At length the episode passed, and he fell back against the pillows, utterly spent, a fine sheen of perspiration beading his brow.

When it was clear he was over the worst of it for the moment, Emma got to her feet and disappeared into his attached bathroom. He heard a cabinet open and close, and then the tap turn on and then off again.  A moment later, Emma returned with a washcloth in her hand.  Taking her seat on the edge of the bed once again, she placed the folded cloth, wet with ice-cold water, on his forehead.  It was the most soothing sensation he’d experienced in quite some time.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No problem,” she answered, feathering her hand through his hair over and over again, occasionally pausing to lightly scratch at his scalp. If he’d been a cat, Colin knew he’d be purring madly at the comfort her actions brought.

A moment later, she continued her explanation. “Well, I ended up acquiring a house that’s _very_ similar to this one, and my bedroom looked just like this.”

“And seeing my bedroom makes you lonesome for your own home?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”  The tears were back in her eyes, and she turned aside, looking sightlessly out at the sea.    “I…never spent much time in my bedroom; it hurt too much.  I’d picked this particular bedroom for us—you and me.  I…I thought about how much you’d like it, with its view of the sea and everything.  But stepping in here without you, when we were so thoroughly not together because of the screwed up circumstances…it was just a huge slap in the face, a reminder of what I was afraid would never be.  And all because I was too much of an idiot to realize what I had before it was too late; all because I let my fears overrule what my heart’s been telling me since our back-in-time adventure at the very least.”

_Back in time adventure?_ It should have made no sense, but…somehow it did, and Colin instinctively knew what to say to her.  He reached up, and gently turned her face back toward him.

“Perhaps all is not yet lost, love,” he said. “Whatever fears you had in the past, whatever difficulties your life was facing, there’s always hope. Perhaps we can figure this thing out.  Together.”

One, lone tear tracked its way down her lovely cheek. “That sounds so much like you— _real_ you—that I can almost believe it.”

“Aye,” he said with a nod, “and well you should.”

They fell into silence for a moment, and she idly reached up and turned the washcloth on his forehead so that the chilled side touched his skin.

“How you holding up?” she asked, looking over him critically.

“Don’t trouble yourself, love; I’m fine,” he said. The chattering of his teeth, his shivering clearly belied his statement.

“Uh-uh,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’ve clearly got chills.  Bet your muscles ache too.”

He gave her a sheepish look. “Aye, I suppose so.  It’s particularly my chest that pains me.”

She glanced aside and muttered something that sounded vaguely like “Hades sure did a number on you.”

A moment later, she hopped to her feet. “Okay, I’m going to go see about making you tea or something.  How ‘bout you slip into something more comfortable and get under the covers.”

This time he couldn’t help himself. “Trying to get me in bed, Swan?  Planning to join me later?  All you had to do was ask.” He raised one eyebrow and gave her a look that made the blush rise to her very hairline.

But his moment of playful flirtation seemed to please her. She grinned delightedly as she headed for the bedroom door.  “You’re as full of it as ever.  I’ll be back in a bit; take care of yourself—and _behave yourself_ in the meantime.”

“I’ll make the attempt,” he said, “but I can make no promises.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and then stepped out of the room. Colin slowly, laboriously got up and made his way to his dresser.  Rifling through the top two drawers, he grabbed a pair of navy blue sleep pants with white anchors on them and a white tee shirt.  After changing and pulling back the covers, he fell into the bed just as Emma returned with a steaming mug in hand.

Colin lay back against the pillow, and took a moment to catch his breath. This sickness—whatever it was—was kicking his ass.  He felt as out of breath as he would if he’d run ten miles.

“You doing okay?” Emma asked, taking her place on the edge of the bed, setting his tea on the nightstand, and replacing his cool, wet washcloth.

“I’ve been better, love,” he wheezed, “but the aspirin you administered does seem to be easing a bit of the pain.”

“Good. Here, try this,” she said, handing him the mug—one that had always been his favorite, though he never knew why.  It depicted a graceful swan, its long neck forming the handle.  “I used some honey; I think it’s supposed to be helpful for soothing the throat or something.  Hope that’s alright.”

He took a sip and smiled. He replaced the mug on the nightstand, and then took her hand.  “It’s perfect, love.”

“I’m glad.” She beamed down at him.

He squeezed her hand once and then reached again for his tea. He drank in silence, the hot, sweet liquid soothing his throat.

“This is kind of nice,” Emma said eventually.

He quirked his eyebrow. “Having you here with me, aye, that’s nice,” he said, “but it’s not exactly the adjective I’d use to describe my current state of health.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Emma said quickly. “I’m sure your…whatever this is…really sucks.  What I meant was, it’s nice being able to take care of you for a change.  You’ve always been there for me.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he said. “I only wish I could remember any of these events.”

“I could tell you about one of them if you like,” she said slowly, almost hesitantly.

Colin took the last swig of his tea, and then settled back against his pillows. He took Emma’s hand, and, in a moment of boldness, laced their fingers.  “I would like nothing better, love.”

Emma reached her free hand up and began playing with his longish hair once again. “It was…I don’t know, a few months ago,” she began, speaking slowly, soothingly.  “It’s kind of hard to keep track of time in our realm.  There’s always a crisis going on.  Anyway.  It had turned….unnaturally cold, and there was this big ice wall all around the town.  The ice had knocked down a power line, and there was a blackout over the whole town.  I’d gone out to investigate with my dad—who’s also my co-sheriff, and while we were out there, I thought I saw something.  When I went closer, I found a woman in this ice-cave type thing.”

“Elsa,” Colin said.

Emma shot him a startled look. “You…you remember?”

He shrugged. “Little flashes here and there.  I…I don’t know why I said that.”

“Well, you’re right,” she continued. “Her name was Elsa, and she was pretty freaked out.  She was looking for her sister, and thought Mr. Gold had done something to her.  No surprise there; Gold’s pretty much the biggest son-of-a-bitch around.”

Colin nodded, feeling odd tendrils of anger…maybe even hatred grip his heart. “Aye, that he is,” he growled.  “I’ve no idea why, but when you mention that name…I think of crocodiles.”

Emma laughed softly. “That’s what you always called him,” she said.  “The Crocodile.  Something about the way his skin looked back in his home…place.  This is good, Colin!  I think you’re really starting to remember!”

“Perhaps,” he said, thoughtfully. “There’s not much I remember in my mind, but…my heart seems to remember a good deal more.  The emotions, are starting to come back.”

She smiled tenderly, and caressed his cheek. “You always were a man of strong emotions.  It makes sense.”

“In any case,” Colin said, “please, continue with your tale.”

“Okay,” she easily agreed. “So, I went to talk to Elsa, see what I could figure out.  Just wanted to help her and everything.  But while I was talking to her, there was this…ice cave-in, and Elsa and I were trapped.”

Colin gasped (which, of course, led to another round of coughing). This tale she was spinning…it sounded eerily similar to a tale in his book—one he’d yet to write, no less.

He listened in awe as Emma continued to talk, telling him how frantic he’d been to get to her, to get her out, how she’d nearly frozen to death, but with her father and Elsa’s help, she’d been rescued.

Aside from the details that were a perfect mirror to the events he fully believed he’d invented in his imagination, he _remembered_ this—the emotions at least.  He remembered the panic, the desperation, the dread that another person he loved was going to be taken from him far, far too soon.

Could…could there be more to his novel than met the eye? Was he actually detailing _memories_ rather than a tale his fertile imagination had dreamed up?  It was madness, utter madness to think such a thing, but...perhaps there was something to it.

Emma evidently didn’t notice his consternation. She continued with her tale.  “And when I finally got out, you held me like your life depended on it.  You…well, you carried me back to my dad’s cruiser, and didn’t really let go for hours afterwards—settling blankets around me when we got back to my parents’ place, holding my hand, wrapping me in your arms, kissing my head.  When the power came on, you even brought me a space heater, even though I’m pretty sure you had no idea what it even was.”

“I…must have cared deeply for you,” Colin said.

A shadow passed over Emma’s face. “Yeah, you did.  More than I ever realized—at least until you…did what you did that landed you here.”

“And what precisely was that act I did to ‘land myself here’?”

Her eyes filled with incredible pain and she shook her head. “I…I can’t tell you that.  I’m pretty sure you’re not ready for it.  It’d completely freak you out.”

Her cryptic statement made him all the more curious, but it was clear her reluctance to talk about the event, whatever it was, was motivated by far more than a wish to protect him from something difficult. She looked as though she, herself, would crumble to dust should she be forced to relive it.

“Very well,” he said with a nod.

A moment later, he yawned widely. It was still early yet; the sun had barely set, but he felt his eyes drooping.  He resisted, feeling a strange tug to this woman sitting on his bed, afraid to go to sleep, afraid when he woke she’d be gone, this whole evening nothing but a fevered dream.

“Go ahead, Killian,” she said, “go to sleep.”

He shot her a quick look, but she looked serene and peaceful. She evidently didn’t even realize she’d called him by the name of his book hero rather than by his own name.

“But I’ve enjoyed this evening…”

She smiled tenderly. “Yeah, me too, but don’t worry.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

He gave her a long searching look. “Why?” he asked simply.

“Um…what do you mean why?”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why are you doing so much for me? Why do you _care_?”

She sucked in a deep breath, and he got the feeling she was trying to remain calm, collected. He saw the moment she lost the battle.  She crumbled, tears filling her eyes and spilling over, a small sob escaping her before she could stop it.

“Because I’m in love with you,” she said brokenly. “I know you’re not _you_ right now, and I know I’m probably scaring you off and everything, but…I just can’t hold it in anymore.  I love you.  Really, truly, _love_ you, and I thought I’d lost you forever, and I didn’t think I could even go on.”

He made a distressed sound, aching at the pain in her voice, wanting to soothe, wanting to comfort.

She continued. “It hurt so damn bad loosing you like that, like I lost the best part of myself, and I saw years and years and years stretching out before me without you, and I didn’t know how I was even going to survive.  It was like every single color had been drained from my world, like nothing would ever have color again, and I just…broke.”

She stopped, choked with emotion, and Colin reached for her. He may not remember her fully; he may not remember the events she remembered, but the feelings were starting to come back in full force.  Though he didn’t understand it, he felt compassion, even love for this woman, and he could no more hold back from comforting her than he could will his heart to stop beating.

He held her for long moments, muttering wordless sounds of comfort. She clung to him as her tears continued, soaking through his tee-shirt and resting on his chest over his heart.

Eventually she calmed and pulled away slightly. “And then I found a way to get to you and I found you, and it’s great, but I just…missed you so damn much.  I miss the man I love; I miss my best friend; I miss my moral support and my joy; I just miss _you._ ”

“I’m here, love,” he said through a throat choked with his own tears. “I’m right here.  I know I’m not…well, I’m not the man you’re looking for, but I’ll do anything for you.”

She caressed his face, his hair. “I know,” she said, with a watery smile, “and you _are_ you—you’re different too, but you _are_ the man I fell for.  And it’s good, it’s wonderful.  I know you, the real you are hidden in there, and somehow we’ll find a way to get back the rest of your memories.”

“Aye,” he said gently, “that you will. I’ve never known you to fail Swan; you’re a bloody marvel.”  He frowned for a moment.  “I don’t know why I know that, but I do.”

“Yeah,” she said on a chuckle. “You may not remember, but you’ve said things just like that before.  Your constant belief in me….well, it’s always kind of floored me and given me strength when I didn’t have any of my own left.”

He held her to him once more, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close as well. “Swan?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I’d really like nothing better than to kiss you right now,” he said.

She sighed contentedly, nuzzling his neck. “Trust me, I’d love it if you did, but there’s the issue of that cold or flu or plague or whatever it is you’ve got going on.”

He laughed. “Aye, it’s quite problematic.”

Emma pulled away, and Colin felt her loss keenly…until she pulled back the covers and climbed in beside him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his chest. “Soon as you get better we can make out until our lips fall off.  Until then, do you mind if I just…lay here with you like this?”

He wrapped her in his arms. “That, love, is not even in the same realm as the list of things I mind.”

_Notes:_

_\--I (obviously) didn’t get the Hercules/Cerberus back-in-time showdown written in this chapter. The muse was very insistent that I skip right to the Captain Swan section—and that I make it my entire focus. I figured since the last chapter didn’t contain_ any _CS, the muse certainly had a point, lol._

_\--So, obviously “Colin” doesn’t remember everything yet, but he’s starting to remember at a very rapid rate now that he has Emma with him. I have a feeling Hades is not going to be pleased when he finds out what an utter failure his “scare Emma away by making Colin really, really sick” plan was…  (Sound ominous?  *insert evil author laugh*)_

_\--Up next: Back in time, Hades sics Cerberus on Hercules, but when that doesn’t work the way he had hoped, he decides to try a new tactic—a new tactic involving Megara. In the present day, Hades learns of his latest plan’s epic failure, and is, predictably, furious.  Cora suggests a new…more permanent solution to their little problem.  Meanwhile, Henry finds Snowing and Hercules, and tells them about Killian’s illness; Outlaw Queen rejoin the group and share_ their _less than stellar news about Gold. The group decides to head back to the house by the sea and see what they can do to speed up “Operation Get Killian To Fall Back in Love With Emma So That They Can Do the Heart Share Thing And Get the Hell Out of….well….HELL” before it’s too late._


	16. Chapter 16

_Underworld, a few years before the first Dark Curse_

“Now you remember the plan, right?” Hades asked, eyeing his minions with more than a little skepticism.

Pain rolled his eyes and then huffed and exaggerated sigh.  “Yes!  We remember.  We take Cerberus to the Enchanted Forest, find Hercules, let Cerberus off his chain and let him do his thing.  It’s not that complicated.”

“No,” Hades said patiently, “it’s not that hard.  In fact it’s incredibly simple.  Ridiculously simple.  But I don’t trust you two to go on a mission to find your own rear ends without messing it up.”

“Oh!  Oh!” Panic said, pointing behind him.  “Mine’s right here!”

Hades facepalmed.  “Congratulations,” he said.  “Now, take that victory and run with it.  Go defeat Hercules!”

The two of them saluted and scampered out.

“They’re going to muck this up epically, aren’t they?” Hades asked Charon who was standing sternly and silently in the corner.

“I would say the odds are quite high, my lord.”

The ferryman’s voice was cold, dead, deep as the grave, and Hades shuddered involuntarily.  Sometimes the guy even freaked _him_ out.

Hades went about his normal business for the day—first a meeting with Charon to discuss needed repairs on the ferry.  (“Is it _really_ that big of a deal?  So you have a little leak.  Your passengers are _dead_.  You really think they’re going to go off the deep end about getting a little wet?”)

Next there was the Underbrooke town hall meeting, in which he had to once again reassure his citizens that electricity was indeed a good thing and was not the product of witchcraft.  One particularly zealous farmer (who had brought a pitchfork to the meeting, because _of course_ he did!) even went on to insist electric lights were the work of the devil.  (Well, as Hades had seen that they were installed, the guy wasn’t exactly wrong…)

Then there was a full afternoon full of new residents to deal with.  (Seems there was a crazy drunken toga party that went way, way, _way_ wrong.  At least the new recruits were amusing even if they probably hadn’t been sober for a good decade.)

And, of course, there were the usual complaints and gripes from hell.  (Really, it was _hell_ , not a luxury resort!  The inmates were miserable?  That was kind of the point

But through it all, his mind continued to wander to the mission in the Enchanted Forest.  Truth was…if there was a way those two idiots could screw up this mission, they’d find that way. 

Hades sighed as he opened his front door and stepped into the foyer.  With a click of his fingers, he turned on his hair and sighed as it burned merrily.  Fact was, he’d be best off sending someone else on his missions.  Pain and Panic had a track record that made “embarrassing” look like a win.  The problem, of course, was that finding sycophants with their level of loyalty, obsequiousness and general cluelessness was easier said than done.

No, he had no one else to turn to.  He’d just have to trust that all would go well, that he’d actually succeed at destroying his nemesis this time.

An hour later, he was seated in his dining room preparing to dig into a nice juicy steak, when the two idiots themselves burst in.

“I just want you to know,” Pain said, hands up in surrender, “that this _wasn’t_ our fault.”

Hades felt his hair fire spike and his stomach drop.  He pushed aside his dinner, his appetite suddenly gone.

“I’ve found when people start a conversation like that, I’m really, really not going to like what they have to say,” he said.

“Well,” Panic said, peeking out from behind Pain, “it wasn’t a _total_ disaster.”

“That is true,” Pain agreed.  “It could have been worse.”

“Granted, it would be pretty hard to get worse,” Panic admitted.

“Yeah, but it still _could_ be worse,” was Pain’s contribution.

Hades roared.  “Get to the point!  What happened?  What did you two utter ignoramuses _do_?”

Panic stepped back, hiding behind Pain once again.

“We followed your directions _exactly_ ,” Pain insisted scowling in what might be indignation.  “It just…didn’t go the way we expected.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Panic piped up, “we took Cerberus up to the Enchanted Forest, but we had a little conundrum.  How were we supposed to _find_ Hercules?”

“But then we had a brilliant idea!” Pain continued.

“I bet,” Hades said under his breath.

“No, this actually was a pretty good one!” Panic said.  “We thought if we couldn’t find Hercules, maybe we could make Hercules find us.”

“Yeah,” Pain continued.  “We know he’s got this whole stupid ‘hero complex’ thing going, so we thought, what better way to get him to show up than to put a whole bunch of unsuspecting saps in danger?

“So we let Cerberus loose in the town square of a village.”

“Did it work?” Hades asked, “Did my pain-in-the-ass nephew show up?”

“He sure did!” Panic said.  “Showed up on the scene just as Cerberus’s left head was about to chomp down on a housewife.  Punched that head right in the face.  Knocked it out clean!”

“What?!” Hades roared.  “A _human_ knocked one of Cerberus’s heads out with a single _punch_.”

“Well, yeah,” Pain said, “but the thing is…and here’s what you’re not going to like _at all_ …his birthmark is…well about half and half.  He’s about equal parts human and god right now.”

“ _WHAT?!!_ ” Hades demanded.  “That’s impossible!  Last week he was only a quarter of the way back to god status.  How did that change so quick?”

Panic shrugged.  “Don’t ask us.  We’re just the messengers.  Guess he’s figuring out this hero thing faster than we thought.”

Hades groaned deeply.  This story was shaping up to be a real doozy.  “Fine,” he sighed.  “So Hercules is half-god now and he punched out one of Cerberus’s heads.  What happened next?”

“Well, as you might expect,” Pain said, “Cerberus was kind of pissed about being punched, so he started going after good old Herc with a vengeance.”

“Yeah,” Panic agreed, “and we got excited, thinking things were about to get really, really good.”

“But then, Hercules kind of used Cerberus’s rage to his advantage,” Pain said.  “He had the beast chase him until he was way out in the country—and way away from all the innocent villagers.”

“And then, Hercules let Cerberus have it with all his might, and, well, the result is…Cerberus just slunk back to hell with his tail between his legs.  I’m guessing he’s off to lick his wounds.”

Hades picked up his water goblet and hurled it against the far wall, feeling a sadistic kind of satisfaction both at the sound of it shattering and at the way Pain and Panic winced and ducked.  Why?  Why couldn’t _anything_ ever go his way?  Why was he _constantly_ thwarted?  All he wanted to do was kill his nephew!  There were worse things he could be doing, right?  Why was the entire universe against him?

His fear, anger and utter frustration lasted long, long into the night, but finally he dropped into an uneasy sleep. 

But he woke with a smile on his face.  Somewhere throughout the night, he’d had an epiphany.  Maybe he was going about this whole thing the wrong way.  Maybe the “overpower him” approach was doomed from the get go.

But what if he went with the softer, gentler approach?  Maybe it was time to make a visit to the last person who’d sold him her soul.  Time to get his money’s worth out of that purchase.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Enchanted Forest, a few years before the first Dark Curse_

Megara plodded into her cottage, tossed her coat in the general direction of its hook on the wall, and plopped down on her bed with a groan.  She was hungry, but the thought of expending the energy it would take to put a meal together made her groan again.

The fact was, she was so tired she was pretty sure she was never getting up from this bed again.

After the fiasco with Michael, she’d moved away from her village.  It was just too difficult, too painful.  Everywhere she looked she saw him, and if that wasn’t hard enough, _everyone_ knew what had happened to her.  She couldn’t meet anyone in the street without them giving her that pained, sympathetic work.

She just couldn’t take it anymore.

Finally she’d just packed up and left, walking as fast and as far as she could until she was utterly exhausted.  She’d been fortunate enough to find an abandoned cottage, furnished with everything she needed.  Whether it belonged to anyone or not, she had no idea, but no one had demanded it back from her yet, so she figured that was a good sign.

Over the past few months, Meg had supported herself with whatever odd jobs she could pick up.  Today she’d taken in laundry from a couple of frazzled housewives.  It had been long, hard work, taking the clothing to the creek, scrubbing it until it was pristine, and then hanging it to dry, but the grateful women had paid her well, so all in all it was a good day.

Now, if she could just sleep for a week, she might start to feel halfway human again.  The fabric of her blanket was rough, and her mattress was lumpy, but the most luxurious bed in the castle couldn’t have felt better.  She slowly let her eyes close and she drifted to sleep.

“Up and at ‘em, Sunshine,” came a snide voice what felt like ten seconds later.

Meg opened her eyes and looked around blearily.  The sun was shining brightly into her east-facing window; it must be morning.  She must have slept through dinner—and maybe breakfast too, if the position of the sun was any indication.

Meg sat up and started to pull back the blankets she’d evidently burrowed under sometime in the night, when she suddenly froze.  Had someone _spoken_ to her a moment ago?  Her heart began to pound as she reached for the heavy brass candlestick on the table beside the bed. 

Taking a deep breath, she whirled around and found herself face to face with a ghost—a very familiar ghost.

“H…Hades?” she asked faintly, still clutching the candlestick and holding it aloft like a weapon.

“How ya doing?” He said with his wide, toothy grin.  (A grin that reminded Meg somehow of a tiger about to pounce).  “I’d say you got your beauty sleep, but yeah, those circles under your eyes?   Not your best look.”

Meg scowled, set her candlestick aside (after all, what use would it really be against a god—and one that didn’t even seem to be really physically present?) and crossed her arms over her chest.  Hades may be the god of the Underworld, but if he thought he could just come into her home and insult her, he had another thing coming.  “What do you want?” she asked in a hard voice.

Hades shook his head with a mocking smile.  “Now is that any way to talk to the guy who owns your soul?”

“You’ll _never_ own my soul,” she spat.

The ghost/god sped forward until he was in her face, his hair fire flaming and his eyes bulging.  “Listen sweetheart, you sold your soul to me fair and square.  I _own_ you, whether you like it or not.”

Megara held her ground, absolutely refusing to flinch.  He might be right about the whole “owning her soul” thing, but she’d be damned before she gave an inch of ground.  (Well, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy given the situation.  In a lot of ways she was _already_ damned.)

“I’ll ask you again,” she said in a cold voice, “what do you want?”

He looked on the brink of yelling at her again, but after a moment he stepped back and pasted his predatory grin back on his face.  “I have a little job for you.”

Meg turned away and began making her bed.  “Not interested.”

“Did you just say _no_ to me?”

She turned back toward him, placing her hands on her hips.  “Yeah.  I said no.  Simple little word, n-o.  I trust you know what it means?”

“You are aware I could _make_ you do my bidding if I wanted?” Hades asked.

She shot him an assessing look.  “I’m guessing not, for whatever reason,” she said reflectively.  “If you could force me, you wouldn’t be asking.  For some reason you need my consent—which I very definitively didn’t give, by the way.”

Hades cursed fluently pacing irritably around her hovel.  Finally he turned back toward her.  “Fine, you got me,” he said in a surly voice, “I _could_ force you, but this is a task I need you on board with.  If you’re half-assing it, probably’ll fail epically.”

Meg moved toward her kitchen as her stomach growled.  “Well, then I guess you’ll have to find another lackey.  In case you missed it, I. Am. Not. Interested.  You’d be _lucky_ if you got a half-assed job out of me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” he asked with a sly grin.  “Are you _sure_ you want to refuse?”

“Yes and yes.”

“What if I told you I could make it _more_ than worth your while?”

Meg stopped what she was doing and turned back toward Hades.  “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I have a pretty good idea what you’d like more than anything else right now,” Hades said smoothly.

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

“Your freedom,” Hades said.  “Ah…I see _that_ got your attention.  So here’s the deal.  You do a little job for me, and I’ll give you your soul back, free and clear.”

Meg’s heart began pounding.  Was it possible she was _actually_ about to dig herself out of the hole she’d tumbled into during the whole Michael fiasco?  “Free and clear?” she asked.  “Just like that?”

Hades snapped his fingers.  “Just like that.  I’ll even sweeten the pot.  You succeed at the task I’ve got for you, I not only give you your soul back, I also give you enough riches you’ll be able to live in luxury for the rest of your days.”

Meg’s eyes widened.  It was…it was a deal she absolutely could _not_ pass up.  “Deal.”

Hades clapped delightedly.  “Excellent.  I’d suggest we shake on it, but, you know, the whole ‘incorporeal’ thing.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

Hades picked up a small vial of some sort of liquid and held it before her face.  “See this?  It’s a potion of mortality.  I need you to find a man-god named Hercules and persuade him to drink it.  Every last drop.”

Meg eyed the liquid warily.  “How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“That, sweetheart is your business,” Hades said dismissively.  “Seduce him?  Make him fall in love with you?  Become his best friend?  I don’t care.  The only thing is…and this is important…he has to drink it willingly.  No force-feeding him.  No pouring it down his gullet while he’s asleep.  He has to _choose_ to drink it, otherwise it’ll have no effect.”

Meg gritted her teeth.  He wanted her to go seduce a man so she could con him into drinking a potion?  She didn’t like it.  Way too much like what Michael did to her (without the potion part, of course).  But what could she do?  She would _never_ have this kind of an opportunity again.

Making up her mind, she nodded decisively.  “You’ve got a deal.”

Hades smiled broadly.  “Wonderful.  I’ll send my associates to bring you the potion within the next few hours.  It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

With that, he dissolved, and Meg was once again alone in her cottage.  “Yeah, can’t exactly say the same,” she muttered under her breath.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

“Pain! Panic!” Hades bellowed, “get your worthless asses _in here_!”

Cora winced, feeling contempt well up within her at her husband’s constant rage.  “My love,” she said calmly, “you will achieve nothing by breaking the sound barrier.  Maybe you could consider moderating your voice a bit?”

Rumplestiltskin sat on the far side of the room.  He smirked nastily.  “It’s a hopeless task, I’m afraid, Cora.  Your brutish oaf of a husband hasn’t the wits to understand such big words as ‘moderating’.  You’re wasting your breath.”

“Why you…”

Cora thought she was going to have to intervene—yet again (Seriously Hades and Rumple were worse than toddlers; how had she missed “babysitter” in the list of job requirements for the wife of a god?)—when luckily Pain and Panic showed up.

Cora watched with narrowed eyes as the two ugly creatures slunk in, heads down and eyes averted.  Clearly, whatever it was they had to report, it wasn’t going to be good news.

“You…you bellowed, your godliness?” Pain said in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Hades said, taking his seat beside Cora and taking her hand.  “What news do you have for us.  Colin still hacking up a lung or two?”

“Yes…” Panic said, drawing out the single syllable.

Hades’ brow furrowed.  “So…it worked?  He got sick and it scared Emma Swan away?”

“Well…” Pain said slowly.  “No.”

Cora winced as Hades squeezed her hand so tightly she could nearly feel her bones breaking.  She shot a quick blast of magic at his hand, and he let go.  He barely seemed to notice.  She recognized the signs; he was about to go off in one of his trademarked towering rages.  She might as well resign herself to going deaf today.

“What do you _mean_ , no?” Hades thundered.

“She…she…” Panic said, and then opened and closed his mouth several times, evidently unable to form coherent thoughts.

“I think what your hopelessly inept minion is trying to say,” Rumple piped up, “is that rather than drive Miss Swan away, the illness actually fueled her determination to remain with the man she loves.”

“Yeah,” Pain said gratefully.  “That’s pretty good, Dark One!  How’d you know that?”

“I know heroes, I know True Love, and I know the Charming family,” Rumple said with a grimace.  “As I could have told you before, putting Hook in danger was likely the most effective way to drive Miss Swan into his arms and further their relationship that you could possibly come up with.  Congratulations, Hades.  You’ve just ensured the road to True Love for Emma Swan and Killian Jones was paved and cleared of all blocks.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they share True Love’s Kiss within the hour.”

“Shut it!” Hades yelled, getting in Rumple’s face.  “If I wanted your commentary I would have asked for it!”

“Well, if you’d taken it before deciding on your ridiculous course of action,” Rumple said, lips curling in derision, “perhaps you wouldn’t be in this mess!”

Cora rolled her eyes and got to her feet.  Giving both men an icy glare she slashed at the air.  “Enough!  Both of you.”

Her regal, queenly bearing must have gotten through their thick skulls, because they both fell into a sullen silence.

“Now,” she said, “what we should or should not have done is irrelevant.  It’s a debate we can have later— _after_ we’ve defeated the Fates’ prophecy.  For the time being we must plan a new course of action.”

“What’s the point?” Hades asked, slumping against the arm rest of his sofa.  “Nothing works; everything blows up in my face.  Might as well start preparing ourselves for life after defeat.”

Cora felt the anger bubble up within her.  She’d worked _hard_ to get here.  She’d finagled two arranged marriages to two _ridiculous_ men, she’d killed, she’d stolen, she’d schemed, she’d let _nothing_ —not even death—stop her.  She was _not_ going down without a fight.  She was not going down _at all!_

But she’d learned how to deal with her husband over the past year, and he did _not_ respond to yelling and anger.  She took a deep, cleansing breath, and then another until she knew she could speak without screeching like a banshee.

“I suggest we dispense with the defeatist attitude until we’ve exhausted all options, my love,” she said gently.

Hades looked up at her curiously.  “What?  You got something else?  ‘Cause I’ve tried everything I can think of, and _nothing_ seems to be able to keep Emma Swan and Killian Jones apart.”

“As it happens,” Cora said, looking back and forth between the two men.  “I _do_ have a plan.”

“Well, Cora dear,” Rumple sneered, “let’s hear it then.”

“We’ve tried everything we can think of to keep them separated temporarily,” Cora said.  “Now, perhaps it’s time we turn to a more permanent solution.”

“What’s that, hun?” Hades asked.

“It will be very difficult for Miss Swan and her pirate to share a kiss of True Love if she’s dead,” Cora said.  “Death would rather be a permanent separation for the pair.”

Rumple rolled his eyes dramatically.  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten where we are Cora,” he said nastily.  “This is the Underworld.  This is the place to which deceased people go.  Killing Emma Swan would only send her—here, right into the arms of her lover.”

“No, it would not,” Cora said decidedly.  “Being killed in the Underworld sends the soul directly to its ultimate destination—either Elysium or Hell, there is no stop in the Underworld for unfinished business.  While Emma Swan’s body would indeed languish here, her soul would take flight and the threat to our plans would be destroyed.”

Cora smiled in satisfaction as she saw Rumple’s jaw drop and then click shut.  “That…could actually work,” Rumple said begrudgingly.

“Do I know how to pick a wife or do I know how to pick a wife?” Hades chortled in delight.  “So how do you propose we murder the savior, sweetie?”

“Well, it can’t be one of us who performs the deed,” Cora said.  “Rumplestiltskin and I are well known to her, and she could likely find a way to defend herself should we appear.  And you, Hades, can’t very well go around murdering people within your town, not if you wish to remain the philanthropic ‘distinguished gentleman’.”

“So if none of us can kill Miss Swan, how are we to manage it?” Rumple asked.

Cora reached into her bodice and extracted a small vial of poison, black as night.  “One small prick from a needle containing this, and Emma Swan will die instantly.”

“And just how are we to administer said prick of the needle,” Rumple persisted.

“Pain and Panic,” Cora said with a shrug.  “Hardly the most reliable solution, but time is of the essence and they’re all we have at the moment.”

Hades thought for a moment, and then nodded, smiling broadly.  “I like it.  I like it a lot.  Pain!  Panic!  Get back in here!  Got another job for you!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Henry glanced into the living room, giving his mom and Killian one last worried glance and then stepped outside, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him.  He looked from side to side wondering where he should go, where he should look.  He had no idea where either his grandparents or his mom and Robin might have gone.

He felt the panic bubble up within him, fear for his mom, for Killian filling his chest like thousands of tiny buzzing bees.  What if he couldn’t find Gram and Gramps?  What if he didn’t get them back here in time?  What if he got captured again by Pan or somebody?

The sweat began to bead on his brow, and for one moment Henry almost stepped back into the house by the sea and told his mom he _couldn’t do it_.

But then thoughts of his Grandpa David, his Grandma Snow, his mothers—both of them—of Killian when he was himself, of Robin Hood filled his mind.    His whole family was full of heroes.  They didn’t turn back from a dangerous task because they were scared.  They didn’t give up just because they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to save their loved ones in time. 

No, they did what they had to do, no matter _what_!  And Henry wasn’t a baby anymore.  He was almost fourteen years old, and it was time he take his own hero’s journey.  Maybe bad things would happen.  Maybe he wouldn’t get to Mom or Gram and Gramps in time, maybe he’d even get kidnapped, but he wasn’t going to fail for lack of trying!

Nodding decisively, he looked both ways, and then decided that the worst thing he could do would be to get caught by one of the villains.  That being decided, he stealthily stepped from the porch and slipped into the woods.  He didn’t know where his family members might be, but clearly just wandering around town was a really, really bad idea.  He’d be better off making his way back to the loft and hope someone had ended up back there.

Henry walked slowly, constantly scanning his surroundings, listening for sounds of movement, for the sight of someone lurking or lying in wait, but all was still and calm—almost eerily so.  Normally the woods were full of the sounds of scurrying little animals, birds chirping in the branches, but here—not a sound.

And so when Henry heard the snap of a twig, his heart began racing.  Someone was here.  Someone was in the woods with him.  He looked around, searching in every direction, but he saw nothing unusual.  Had he just imagined it?

He stood stock still, merely listening for several moments, but he heard no other sounds.  Releasing the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, he started cautiously forward again.

He stepped on a large, rotted twig and it snapped with a sound a loud as a gunshot—at least to Henry’s nervous ears.  He froze, rooted to the spot.  The shadows were lengthening in the twilight, and Henry thought he saw a demon in each one.  He thought his heart would burst from his chest as he waited, praying no one had heard him.

“Hey!  Who’s there?!” came a voice from up ahead.

Henry sagged in relief.  “Gramps!” he called back.  “Gramps, is it you?”

Henry heard voices—he thought it was Gram and Gramps, and his relief grew.  A moment later, David burst through the trees, and Henry ran to him, wide smile on his face.

“Henry!” Snow said, taking him into her arms, “we thought that was you we heard!  Are you alright?  What happened?  Where’s your mother?”

“Back at the house,” Henry said, tackling her last answer first.  “We found him.  We found Killian—well, he calls himself Colin, but it’s him!”

David laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.  “That’s great!  It’s about time we got a break.  The three of us have struck out at every turn.”

“But…” Snow said, looking closely at Henry, “why are you out here?  Where’s your mom?  I thought we all were going to meet at the house.”

“I was coming to find you,” Henry said, the worry returning in full force, “there’s…a problem.”

“What?” David asked.  “Is Emma…”

“Mom’s fine!” Henry hastened to reassure, “at least for the moment.  It’s Killian that’s in trouble right now.”

“What kind of trouble?” Hercules asked, stepping forward and joining the conversation for the first time.

“He’s sick,” Henry said.  “Some sort of…really weird sickness.  He was fine most of the afternoon, and then suddenly he was really, really sick.  Mom said he had a fever and was coughing and all of that.  I’m…I’m kind of worried about him…and about mom.”

Snow hugged him again, looking to her husband.  “That doesn’t sound…natural,” she said.

“No, it definitely doesn’t,” David answered.

“Mom thought maybe Hades did something to him,” Henry said.  “She thought, I don’t know, maybe he somehow found out we were there and was trying to stop us or something.”

“But how would he know?  How could he figure that out?” Snow asked.

“We might be able to answer that question,” Regina said, stepping suddenly into their line of sight.

“Yeah?” David asked, sheathing the sword he’d automatically drawn at the sound of approaching people.  “What’d you guys found out.”

“Miss Swan was most assuredly correct about Mr. Gold,” Robin said, stepping up to Regina and putting an arm around her waist.  “We did surveillance around Hades’ abode and saw Gold leave the house, looking quite chummy with Cora.”

David swore long and fluently, pacing and running a hand through his hair.  Finally he stepped back toward the group.  “Of _course_ he is!” he growled menacingly.  “That’s all he ever does, isn’t it? Screw everyone over.  Why did we ever think he’d do anything else?”

Snow stepped up to Charming and put a gentle hand on his arm.  “This is definitely not good news, but it’s what we’d already begun to expect.”

“Yeah,” David agreed, “but there’s a difference between suspecting something and having your suspicions confirmed.”

“I’m afraid it’s even worse than that,” Regina said.  “Gold knows our plans; he knows our home base.  If he’s in cahoots with Cora and Hades…we’ve got to accept that they now have all that information, too.”

“Damn!” David said, beginning to pace again.  “What the _hell_ are we supposed to do now.”

“The same as what we’ve been doing,” Henry said.  “We go back to the house and help Mom get Killian to fall in love with her.”

“But if Hades knows we’ve found your friend…” Hercules began.

Henry shook his head.  “Don’t you see?  It doesn’t matter.  Even if they’re onto us, we still have to save Killian.  There’s no way mom will leave without him…and I won’t either!”

“Of course, Henry,” Regina said.  “None of us want that, but we have to think about this.  We have to be smart in how we proceed.”

“No we don’t!” Henry insisted.  “We don’t have _time_ to be smart!  We have to save Killian _now._   If Hades knows we’re onto him, he might attack at any time.  We have to save Killian before that.”

“So, what are your thoughts?” Snow asked.

“We go back and help Killian remember who he is—and how much he loves mom, then we split her heart as soon as we can.”

“Do you think that will work, lad?” Robin asked.

“I _know_ it will!” Henry said.  “You should have seen him!  He may not really remember who he is, but I could tell he already really liked mom.  Maybe if he sees the rest of us, and we remind him who we are, it’ll help him remember.”

“You aren’t the truest believer for nothing,” David said with a grin.  “Alright Henry.  Let’s go knock some sense into the pirate’s head.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The group set out for the house by the sea, the return trip taking significantly longer as full dark had fallen while the group talked.  David obsessively scanned their surroundings.  He had a bad feeling about this.  He had a bad feeling about all of this.

Granted, he hadn’t been all that comfortable in hell before now, but…somehow something felt different.  He felt a shiver running up his spine.  He had a premonition he just couldn’t shake. 

Something terrible was about to happen.

After long minutes of picking their way carefully through the woods, they finally reached the lane on which Colin’s house sat.  Street lights sat at regular intervals throughout the street casting eerie, slightly red-tinted light along the dark street.

They were about one hundred yards from the house, when…something…caught David’s eye.  He stopped, turning toward the alley they’d just passed, hoping to see what he’d noticed.

“David,” Mary Margaret asked, taking his hand.  “What’s wrong?”

David opened and then closed his mouth as his heart suddenly dropped to his toes.  He finally realized what it was that caught his eye.  There on the ground was a hair.  Blonde hair. 

Without answering, David began running, fear spurring him forward.  He heard the rest of the group following after him, shouting questions, but he was focused entirely on the alley before him.

He dropped to his knees, hands shaking as he reached for the woman lying on her side away from him.  He rolled her to her back and then cursed, feeling as though someone had driven a knife through his chest. 

He was looking down at the face of his daughter, her eyes open wide, a look of surprise on her face.

She wasn’t breathing.

 

_Notes:_

_\--*evil author laugh*  We writers really are a sadistic lot.  There’s something WAY too satisfying about leaving a chapter on a really big cliff-hanger!_

_\--Okay, I can’t talk a whole lot about what happened in the chapter, because I want to keep you guessing—build the suspense and all of that.  Don’t worry, though.  I’ll try to get the next chapter up a.s.a.p. (before the mid-season premiere?  Maybe!  I hope so!)_

_\--Up next: We’ll rewind an hour or two and see just how Emma ended up in that alley…and what happens next.  I know this is really, really vague, but I can’t really say much more than that!  Let’s just say, you probably won’t want to miss the next chapter!_


	17. Chapter 17

_Underworld, an hour before_

Emma raised herself up on her elbow and looked down on Killian.  He slept peacefully, the ghost of a smile on his face.  She reached up, brushing the hair off his forehead.  His fever seemed to have broken; his head was cool to the touch.  She hoped it meant he was starting to get over whatever it was Hades had cursed him with.

The question, of course, was why?  Why would Hades send him an illness in the first place, and why would he randomly get rid of it?  It just didn’t make sense.  She felt totally off-kilter, and she just wanted to get out of this place, get home, get started on that future she and Killian had talked about.

Emma felt the tears begin to slide down her face once more, as she gently caressed Killian’s face.  She didn’t even know why she cried, whether she was happy, or sad, whether she was afraid or relieved.  She’d covered the gamut of every emotion she could think of in the past few weeks and she was just…tired.

She laid back, her head pillowed on Killian’s chest, her arms around him.  The tears continued to flow.  Here, alone with the man she loved—the man who was himself, but not quite—she let herself grieve, let the fear and pain bleed off with the tears.

She’d been so frantic, so busy trying to find a way to save him, she hadn’t had a chance to process what had happened—all that had happened—for the past few months.  From watching Killian die in the alternative universe, to taking on the darkness, to fighting so very hard to save Killian’s life to running him through with Excalibur.  How was anyone supposed to take it all in?

But now things had changed, the tide had turned.  Against all odds, against all reason, she’d found him; she’d found Killian.  He was changed, different with this memory curse, but there was still so very, very much of him here that she felt her heart nearly burst with love for him.

And he was starting to remember his love for her as well.  She could tell, could see it in his eyes, could hear it his voice.  Soon he would remember fully, and then she could give him half of her heart and take him home.

Soon.

The doorbell rang.  Emma looked down at Killian, but his sleep was undisturbed.  What should she do?  Should she answer the door?  Should she wait for the visitor to give up and go away?

She was on the point of snuggling yet closer into Killian, letting sleep overtake her, when it occurred to her that it might be Henry or her parents or Regina and Robin.  They had, after all, planned to meet up here at the house by the sea when everybody finished their particular task.

Groaning, hating to get up, hating to leave Killian—even for a few minutes—even more, she sat up and then got to her feet.

The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time.

“I’m coming!” Emma said irritably.  “Just calm down!”

She opened the door to find herself face to face with two of the ugliest men—if indeed they were human men—she’d ever seen.  Reflexively she took a step back and raised a hand as though to ward them off.  “Who…who are you?”  she asked in a small voice.

“I’m Pain,” the man on the left said, “and that’s Panic over there.”

“What are you, demons?” Emma asked.

The one called Pain gave her an aggrieved look.  “No, but that’s really insulting.  Who _does_ that?  Goes around asking people if they’re demons.  No manners at all.  We’re merely souls with unfinished business, just like your boyfriend.  How’s his pneumonia, by the way?”

“If you think you’re going to do _anything_ to Killian, you’ve got another thing coming,” Emma said, curling her hands into fists, ready to fight both of them at once if need be.

“Relax, lady,” the one called Panic said.  “We don’t care about Colin.    It’s _you_ we want.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and took another step back.  “Me?  What do you want with me?”

“It’s not _us_ that want you,” Pain said.  “It’s our boss, Hades.  You know the god of the dead?”

“Yeah, I might have heard of him,” Emma drawled.  “And you can just go back and tell your boss I’m not interested.  In whatever it is he wants me for.”

Panic smiled nastily.  “Are you _sure_ about that?”

Emma crossed her arms.  “Am I sure I don’t want to go hang out with the devil?  Yeah, pretty sure.”

“Not even to save your precious little son’s life?”

Emma felt her heart race, the fear and adrenaline immediately flooding her system.  “What about Henry?  What have you done with him?  I swear to God if you touched him…if you did _anything_  to him…”

“Relax,” Pain said with a nasty smile, “we haven’t done a single thing to him… _yet_.”

“Let’s just say,” Panic went on, “Hades is keeping him safe and sound…for now.  (Really, though, what kind of a parenting decision was it to let him wander around by himself around here?)  It would be quite a shame if anything should…happen to him.”

Emma took a deep breath, forcing herself to push the panic aside; it wouldn’t do anything to help Henry.  “What do you want?”

“Hades merely wants to have a little chat,” Pain said.  “Come with us and nothing needs to happen to your boy.”

“Fine,” she said, looking back toward the stairway leading to the bedrooms upstairs.  “Let me just tell Colin what’s going on, and then I’ll come with you.”

Panic shook his head.  “No time.  You come now or the deal’s off.  And you _don’t_ want to know what’ll happen to Henry if that’s the case.”

Emma shot one more concerned look upstairs, and then glanced around for paper, a napkin, _something_ she could use to leave a note.  The thought of Killian waking up and realizing she was gone, thinking she’d abandoned him…well, it was about the last thing she wanted.

But there was nothing.  Absolutely _nothing_.

“Well, what’s it gonna be, lady?”

Emma took a deep breath.  She’d just have to hope she could get back here soon, get back to the business of saving Killian’s life.

“Alright, lead the way.”

She followed the two outside into the twilight.  The street lights were just now beginning to flicker on, and it made this place look about as eerie as possible.  The sooner they could get the hell out of…well, _hell,_ the better.

The turned left, and Hades’ two minions led her forward past a couple of dilapidated houses until they came to a dark alleyway.

“Just through here,” Pain said, gesturing with one gnarled hand.

Emma shrunk back.  “You guys really expect me to follow two servants of the devil into a dark alley?  Uh-uh.  I don’t think so.”

Panic shrugged.  “Fine.  You explain to Henry’s other mother that you decided not to save his life because you were too afraid to walk through an alley.  It’s no skin off our noses.”

Emma growled.  “Okay, lead on, but if you try anything funny…”

She could have sworn she heard one of them mutter “Oh what we have in store isn’t the slightest bit funny,” which, of course, was hardly reassuring, but what choice did she have?

She’d taken about three steps forward into the darkened alley when suddenly the two of them turned on her.  It happened so quickly, she didn’t have time to react, didn’t even have time to cry out in surprise.  Pain grabbed her, held her steady, while Panic shoved a syringe into her arm.

The world went black before he’d even withdrawn the needle.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Pain laid the blonde lady down on her side, frowning slightly.  It really was a bit of a shame they’d had to kill her.  Seemed like a nice lady; pretty too. 

Still…what were they gonna do?   Hades ordered them to kill her, so kill her they did.

“Hey Panic,” he said as the two of them stepped out of the alley and started back to Hades’ mansion.

“Yeah?” his associate asked, shoving the needle and the vial of blue liquid back into the bag Cora had given him,

“Do you realize that we just completed a task Hades gave us?” Pain said with a wide smile.

Panic looked at him like he was a very slow, very stupid child.  “Yeah, that’s what you call it when you finish all the steps of a task.  You say you’ve completed it.”

“No,” Pain said, shaking his head for emphasis, “what I meant was, we completed it _successfully_.  In all the years we’ve been working for his Evil Highness, I don’t think we’ve _ever_ completely succeeded at anything he’s given us to do!”

A broad smile slowly spread across Panic’s face.  “Hey, I think you’re right.  Hades is going to reward us like you wouldn’t believe!”

Thus satisfied with a job well done, the two of them nearly ran back to the god of the dead’s mansion.  For the first time in their long after lives they’d actually done something _right!_

Hades, Cora and Rumplestiltskin were deep in some sort of discussion of the plan for the night of the blue moon when Pain burst through the doors.  All three villains looked up at him with mingled looks of expectation and dread.  It rather hurt that none of them trusted him to keep from mucking up a simple task like pricking a lady with a needle and killing her, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it.

Instead he imagined the happiness on their faces when they heard of his and Panic’s great triumph.

“Well?” Hades finally asked, and Pain realized he’d stood in the doorway for a full two minutes without saying a word.

Panic surged forward, pulling the small, black pouch from around his neck “We did it!” he said triumphantly.  “The ‘savior’s’ dead as a door nail.”

All three villains continued to eye them suspiciously.  “She’s dead?” Rumple asked.  “You’re sure of it.  You’re absolutely positive.”

“Uh-huh,” Pain answered, nodding eagerly.  “Saw it with my own eyes.  I held her still, and Panic put the needle in the blue liquid until the needle was full and then shoved it into her arm.  She crumpled right away!”

Cora’s head whipped toward him.  “Blue liquid?  _Blue_ _liquid?_   The poison I gave you was black as night!”

“No!” Panic said firmly.  “It was blue.  It was definitely blue.”

“Are you telling me I don’t know the color of my own potions?”

“Well, no,” Pain said, “but you did seem to be a little…forgetful.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hades thundered.

“Well,” Panic said, “the queen gave us the pouch, and it had the syringe in it and everything, but she forgot to put the bottle of poison in.”

“Yeah,” Pain hastened to add, “but it all worked out alright.  We went looking for it, and we saw it sitting out on the table of her potion room just as plain as day.  Only potion not in its place.  Knew it _had_ to be the one we were looking for!”

“You absolute _fools_!” Cora yelled.  “I very distinctly put the vial of poison into that pouch!  Do you think I’m so much of an idiot that I’d leave anything to chance when it comes to the two of you?”

“No…” Pain said, beginning to see his moment of triumph crumble before his very eyes.  “Guess not, but…there was no vial in there, so…”

“Nope, definitely wasn’t,” Panic said, beginning to take items out of the pouch to make their point.  “See?  Here’s the syringe.  Here’s the vial of blue death juice, and here’s…hey!  Wait a second!  Look Pain, there _was_ a vial in here already!  And it _does_ have black liquid!  Well, whatd’ya know!”

And then the fireworks came.  Hades, Cora and Rumplestiltskin all yelled until they were hoarse, curses and imprecations both flying.  Pain and panic dove under then nearest couch, hoping to avoid the worst of it.

Finally the villains calmed.  “Cora, my love,” Hades finally said after a lengthy silence.  “If it wasn’t the potion of death that my worthless dumbasses of servants injected Emma Swan with, what was it?”

Cora stared off into space for a moment or two and then groaned.  “Sleeping curse.  It _had_ to be sleeping curse.  I was contemplating ways I could use it to get my revenge on Snow White just before we convened for our council.”

“Well…” Hades said, “that’s good, right?  Whether she’s dead or she’s in an eternal sleep, that’s still enough to keep her from performing any acts of True Love over the next three days before the blue moon hits and we put our plan into motion.”

“I’m not so sure,” Rumple said with a grimace.  “Sleeping curses can, in fact be broken.  All it takes is a True Love’s Kiss, and not only will Miss Swan awaken, but likely the entirety of your curse on this place will be broken.”

“But…” Hades said, “Colin still doesn’t remember who he is.  Without his memories, he can kiss Emma Swan until his lips fall off, but it won’t be True Love’ Kiss.”

“You underestimate the strength of their love at your peril, my love,” Cora said. 

“And you’ve forgotten something else, as well,” Rumple said grimly.  “Hook isn’t her only True Love.  There’s also her son, Henry.  The strength of their True Love has already broken a Dark Curse.”

Cora smiled.  “Well as to that,” she said, “it’s not something we need to worry about.  As I said, I’ve been developing the curse for use on my murderess.  She’s already broken a sleeping curse with her un-charming prince—two, in fact.  Simply administering another dose of sleeping curse would be nothing but a minor annoyance.  I modified the formula just enough that it is now immune to the kiss of one who’s already woken someone from a sleeping curse.  Henry’s kiss would be completely ineffectual, as, for that matter, would the kisses of the Charmings.”

“Now, we’re talking!” Hades said, rubbing his hands together, broad grin in place.  “So it has to be a kiss from Killian Jones.  That’s her only hope of waking.  All we have to do is make sure he doesn’t kiss her before the blue moon.”

“How will we accomplish that?” Cora asked.

Hades shrugged.  “Shouldn’t be a problem.  At least Pain and Panic did one thing right.  They got her away from the house before they shot her.  I have it drilled deep into Colin’s head that he can’t ever, ever leave his house or terrible things will happen.  Even if he’s starting to have tender feelings for the savior, I think we’re home free.”

“Unless one of the heroes finds her and carries her body back to the house,” Cora said.

“Leave that to me,” Rumplestiltskin said with a flourish of his hand.  “With a simple spell from the Dark One, she’ll be rooted to the spot, and no power in any of the realms will be able to move her until her sleeping curse is broken.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

For several moments no one moved, everyone still in their absolute horror.

And then it all seemed to sink in. 

“No!” Snow wailed, dropping to her knees and caressing her daughter’s lifeless face, sobs wrenching from her.

Henry yelled, and Regina pulled him to her, shielding his face, looking on in distress.

Robin merely shook his head, muttering “What happened?  What happened?” over and over.

Finally Regina noticed something odd about the scene.  Snow tenderly closed Emma’s eyelids, but they didn’t stay still.  They twitched from time to time…the way they might in someone dreaming.

Afraid to hope, she passed Henry over to his Gramps and knelt down beside Miss Swan, peering at her carefully.  Obviously sensing she’d noticed something significant, the rest of the group fell back, letting Regina do her examination in peace.  After long moments of perusal, Regina got back to her feet and turned toward the rest with a broad smile.

“She’s not dead,” she said.  “She’s under a curse.  A sleeping curse, if I’m not mistaken.”

“What?” Henry asked excitedly. “Mom, are you sure?”

“Yes,” Regina said, “absolutely sure.”

“That’s great!” Henry said.  “She woke me from a sleeping curse once before!  I can wake her up from this one; I _know_ I can!”

David squeezed his shoulder.  “Go ahead then, Henry.  Wake your mom.  I’m sure she doesn’t want to be in that burning room any longer than she has to!”

Henry grinned.  “No, she _definitely_ doesn’t!”

Leaning down, Henry kissed Emma’s forehead, and then leaned back, waiting to see what would happen.

Nothing did.

“Maybe…it was a stronger does of sleeping curse?” he said with a frown.  “Maybe I have to try again.”

He did, with an equal lack of results. 

Finally, realizing their solution was not going to work, he got to his feet, eyes frantic looking back and forth over the rest of the group.  “It didn’t work!  Why didn’t it work?  Did I do it wrong?”

Regina hugged him.  “No, Henry.  You did just fine,” she assured.  “There must be some other provision with this curse…”

“I bet I know what it is,” David said in a hard voice.  “Hades probably rigged it somehow so that only her romantic True Love—only Killian—can wake her.”

“And,” Snow said in a voice heavy with defeat, “Killian doesn’t even remember who he is.  We all know how well True Love’s Kiss works when there’s memory loss involved.”

Henry looked from face to face.  “Well we have to try!  We can’t just leave her asleep if there’s a chance!  Besides, Killian was starting to fall in love with her again; I know it!”

“But has his love reached sufficiently strong levels it could break a curse, lad?” Robin asked.

“No way to know,” David said, “but Henry’s right.  We have to at least try.  Come on, help me get her up.  We’ll carry her to Killian’s house; have him give it a try.”

Robin rushed forward, and the two men tugged gently at Emma.  She didn’t move.  They tugged harder.  Still nothing.

“What’s going _on_ here?” Snow asked quietly.

Regina narrowed her eyes.  “Magic.  I can detect the traces, even if I don’t have magic in this place.  For some reason, Hades wants to keep Miss Swan here.  Any ideas why?”

“I think I know,” Henry said finally.  “Killian won’t leave his house.”

“What do you mean?” David asked.

“He’s scared or something,” Henry said with a shrug.  “Said he can’t leave the house, ever, or something bad will happen.”

Regina started pacing.  “Well that pretty much confirms it, then.  Hook’s the only one who can break her curse.  Hades arranged it so he’d have the savior out of the way free and clear.”

“What are we going to do?” David asked.

“We _have_ to go to Killian,” Henry said.  “Convince him to come kiss Emma!  Somehow we have to convince him to leave.”

Regina nodded.  “It’s the best plan we have.  You guys go ahead.  Robin and I will stay here, guard Emma until you get back.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Colin woke slowly, a smile on his face.  He felt 100% better than he had when he fell asleep a few hours ago.  Strange illness, this one.  It left as quickly as it came on.

He turned on his side, looking for Emma, hoping she’d allow him that kiss they’d both wanted a few hours ago.

But the other side of the bed was empty. 

Colin frowned, wondering if he’d imagined it, if he’d imagined her.  But the other pillow had the imprint of another head, held her scent—vanilla and cinnamon.  He hadn’t dreamt her.  She’d truly been here.  She’d cared for him so tenderly, confessed her love, curled up to him and held him while he fell asleep.

It was still quite dark, where could she have gone?

Colin got to his feet and wandered through his house, wondering if she’d woken, gone to the kitchen or the bathroom, but after a perusal of the entire house, he found himself once again quite alone.

Had she…left him?  Surely not!  Not after all they’d said to each other, not after promising she’d be there when he woke.  But if she hadn’t left, where could she be?

There was a knock at his front door, and Colin frowned.  A glance at the clock showed it to be nearing midnight.  Who would be calling so late?

Perhaps it was her.  Perhaps she’d left, concerned about the fate of her boy.  Supposing that must be the explanation, Colin hurried to the door, wide smile on his face.

When he found himself instead face to face with Henry alone—a very frantic looking Henry—the smile slid from his face.  “What is the matter lad?  Has something happened?”

“Yeah,” Henry said.  “Something really bad happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Colin said, motioning for the lad to follow him into the sitting room.  “I’m afraid your mum isn’t here.”

“I know,” Henry said.  “She’s…well, it’s not her we need; it’s you.”

“Me?” Colin asked.  “Whatever for.”

“Something happened to her,” Henry said.  “I know this is going to sound crazy, but somebody put her under a sleeping curse.”

“A…sleeping curse?”  Vaguely, in the back of his mind, the term seemed familiar.  As was the solution.  “She must be woken with True Love’s Kiss.”

“Yeah!” Henry said eagerly, “you remember?”

Colin shrugged.  “Only bits and pieces.”

“Well, you remembered that right!” Henry said.  “We really, really need you, Killian.  I know you don’t remember that’s your name, but it is.  I know you don’t remember all the stuff mom and I’ve been telling you, but you love my mom.  Really, really love her.  You loved her so much you were willing to die for her—more than once.  You’re our only hope!”

Colin’s heart began to race.  The thought of the lovely Emma, the woman who had cared for him, the woman who had made him feel emotions he’d never before experienced…the thought of her in trouble, needing help made the adrenaline race through him.  He got up and began pacing.

“I want to help you and your mother more than anything, but I fear I will fail miserably.”

“But you love her, don’t you?” Henry persisted, voice completely earnest.

Colin took a deep breath and let it out suddenly knowing, recognizing the answer deep within his very bones.  “Aye lad.  I do love her.”

“Then don’t you see?” Henry said, tugging at his hand.  “You can do this!  You can break her curse!”

“Very well,” Colin said with a decisive nod.  “I will try.  Bring her to me.”

Henry glanced aside, reaching up to scratch behind his ear in a gesture similar to Colin’s own nervous twitch.  “That’s the thing,” he said slowly.  “We _can’t_.  The one who cursed her…well, he made it so she can’t be moved.  You have to go to her.”

Henry tried to tug at Colin’s hand once more, but Colin stood rooted to the spot.  “I…I can’t, lad,” Colin said in a pained voice.  “You know I can’t.  I’ve told you; I can never leave my house lest something terrible happen.”

The boy shook his head vehemently.  “No, that’s not true, Killian!” he insisted.  “It’s part of your memory loss.  They want to make you _think_ you have to stay here, but you don’t!  You can go anywhere you want!  Nothing bad’s going to happen!”

The fear was nearly overwhelming.  “You don’t understand, Henry.  I…I can’t.  I’m sorry.  I just _can’t_!”

Henry planted his feet, crossed his arms and gave Colin a hard look.  “So that’s it then?  You say you love my mom, but you’re going to let her stay cursed forever because you’re too scared to help her?”

Colin hesitated of another heartbeat, two, and then firmly shook his head.  The fear was like a living thing in his chest—but far stronger still was the love.  “You’re quite right, lad.  I cannot let your mother languish because of my fears.”

Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside of his house for the first time ever…and nothing happened.  No catastrophe.  No disaster.

“See,” Henry said with a smile.  “I told you you could do this!”

“It would seem you spoke the truth.”

For the first time, Colin notice the other two people waiting just beyond his porch—a blond man and a motherly woman with dark hair in a whimsical pixie cut.  They looked vaguely familiar, although Colin couldn’t place them. 

Both seemed very, very happy to see him, but there was no time for introductions, and so after exchanging nods of greeting, the four of them hurried forward until they reached an alley way near the end of the street.

Ignoring the man and woman standing watch over her, Colin focused entirely on Emma Swan lying in the alley, still and pale as death.

“No!” he breathed, falling to his knees beside her.  He reached out a shaking hand and cupped her silky-smooth cheek, his thumb caressing the pale skin.  “Wake, darling, please wake!”

“You have to kiss her, Killian!” Henry reminded.  “You have to really mean it!   Focus on loving her!”

Colin took a deep breath and then nodded gently.  “I love you,” he murmured just before covering her mouth with his own.

It was instantaneous, the effect.  Something that resembled electricity, something like a shock wave, started from their joined lips and spread out as far as the eye could see, translucent and containing all the colors of the rainbow.

Suddenly jumbled images began racing through his mind—sailing with Liam, Neverland, becoming a pirate, Milah, the Crocodile, meeting Emma, the beanstalk, offering his ship and services in Neverland, a passionate kiss in the jungle, time travel adventures, the author’s alternative universe, the Dark One, dying to save her.

Slowly, below him her eyes fluttered open, and he was slammed with a wave of such incredible love it was nearly painful.

“Swan?” he croaked.  “You’re…here?  You found me?”

She smiled, reaching up to caress his face.  “Did you ever doubt I would?”

_Notes:_

_\--See, I told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging for long!  It was rather mean to leave the last chapter in such a precarious place, but I made up for it in this chapter, right?  I gave you a TLK and everything!_

_\--Up next: We’ll pick up right where we left off._


	18. Chapter 18

_Underworld, present day_

Hades snoozed happily, pleasant visions of world domination dancing through his head. Truth was, he slept better than he had in weeks, ever since he realized just how close he was to the moment the Fates had prophesied would be his downfall.

Things were going well. Very, very well indeed.  There was no sign of Hercules in the Underworld. (And even if there had been, big deal!  Hades had finally found a way to neutralize him, thanks to Megara, not that she’d been a willing pawn, but what are you going to do?)  And now, thanks to Pain, Panic and the Dark One, even the threat of the super-powerful True Love couple to end all True Love couples posed was averted.

And in three days, his plan to gather enough magic to challenge—and beat—Zeus would be underway.

Afterlife was good.

So with those musings, Hades went to bed and slept like a baby.

That is until the shockwave hit.

Hades woke with a start, the surprise being so sudden that his hair turned on, setting the bedsheets on fire. Hades cursed, put the bed out and then jumped to his feet, throwing on his electric blue dressing gown.

He had no idea what had just happened, but he knew one thing for damn sure: It wasn’t good.  Hades hurried to the room two doors down where Cora slept.  (They’d tried sleeping together when they were first married, but after his hair had started in the middle of the night a couple of times, Cora had flat out refused to share a bed with him.  It wasn’t the ideal arrangement for a (relatively) newly married god, but he’d already learned life went much better when he kept Cora happy.)

She opened the door just as he prepared to knock.

“Did you feel that?” she asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounded like an electric shock or something.  Any idea what it was?”

She looked grim. “Unfortunately I know exactly what it was.  We’ve got a problem.  Apparently the good captain managed to administer True Love’s Kiss after all.”

Hades cursed, letting his hair shoot higher. After a moment he calmed.  “Okay, so some random people are in love.  Big deal.  We can handle this.  All this means is that I lost my favorite author.”

Cora shook her head. “It’s far worse than that,” she insisted.

Hades sighed. “Alright, lay it on me babe. _What’s_ worse than that?”

“I know curses, and I know curse breaking,” Cora said. “I’m not unfamiliar with a True Love shockwave like that.  That wasn’t merely a shockwave that broke Emma Swan’s sleeping curse or ‘Colin Delamer’s memory loss curse.  That was a shockwave that fundamentally transformed the very fabric of the Underworld.  My love, your Dark Curse is over.”

Hades felt his hair die and go out with a pop. This was bad.  This was _really_ bad.  “You mean we just lost all our slaves?”

“Yes,” Cora said, “and I would wager when our people wake up in the morning and realize the lie they’ve been living in for years, they will revolt. Things are likely to get extremely chaotic.”

Hades felt the anger ignite within him. _No_!  He was not losing everything!  He was not losing his happy, peaceful way of life!  He was not losing his servants!  He was not losing his chance at total and complete world domination!

Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched toward the room at the end of the hall. “Rumple!” he bellowed as he pounded on the other man’s gust room door.  “Open up!  You’ve got some explaining to do!”

Hades waited a minute, then another, all the while becoming angrier and angrier. He pounded again.  He was on the point of pounding a third time, his fury now burning so bright he was about to self-combust, when finally the door opened and Rumplestiltskin stepped out.

The Dark One was dressed to the nines, all in black from his tailored suit, to his dress shirt, to his tie. He stepped out, deliberately closed and locked his door, and then turned back toward Hades with a mocking grin.

“You bellowed?”

“Damn right I bellowed!” Hades said, getting right in the smaller man’s face. “Do you know what happened? _Do you KNOW what happened?_ ”

“I’d wager you’re referring to the breaking of the Dark Curse,” Rumple answered, smirk still firmly planted on his face.

“ _Of course_ I’m talking about the curse breaking!” Hades thundered.  “My way of life, my entire _world_ just crumbled around my feet!”

Rumple rolled his eyes. “Can we dispense with the theatrics?  Somehow I believe you’ll survive this setback—especially when you’re about to get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“ _Everything I ever wanted?!!_ ” Hades asked.  “Have you lost your mind?  My curse is over.  My town is destroyed.  One half of the prophecy of my demise is accomplished.  How is that everything I’ve ever wanted?”

“Because,” Rumple said with a sneer, “it’s quite simple. One half of the prophecy is fulfilled, but the other half is nowhere in sight.  The blue moon is in two days.  It matters not if the Underworld is more or less on fire now that all of your souls know just who and what you are.  They can burn the town down for all you should care.  It’ll make no difference when you’re the supreme god over all.”

Hades relaxed slightly. “Yeah, I guess that might be true.  But why should I trust a word out of your lying _mouth_?  I’ve been listening to your fool ideas for the better part of two weeks now, and every time I follow your advice it blows up in my face!”

“Your utter inability to deliver is hardly my problem, Dearie.”

“Don’t you ‘Dearie’ me!” Hades thundered. “I’m still the god of the dead, and I can have you killed and then string you up like a piñata for all the villagers to whack!”

“You could,” Rumple said calmly, “but where would that get you? You _need_ me.  Without me, you’ll never defeat your brother.  Without me you’ll be stuck in this…ahem…hell hole for the rest of eternity.  So all in all, I’d suggest _you_ moderate your tone.”

The anger flared brightly once again. This Dark One was starting to get significantly too big for his britches.  More than anything in any realm, Hades wanted to take this son of a bitch down a peg or two.

Taking a deep breath, Hades forced himself to relax. Rumplestiltskin would get his.  Oh, he would get his without a doubt!  Once Hades was the supreme god of all he would hound the worthless Dark One until he was begging for mercy!  He just needed to put up with Rumple’s crap for a few more days.

“And I’d suggest,” Hades finally said in a far calmer tone, “that you remember who’s the god and who’s the sparkly golden imp who’s head is getting so big it soon won’t fit in the Underworld.”

“I suppose we shall see which of us is more powerful.”

“Indeed we will.”

The two fell into silence, seething at each other. A moment later, Cora stepped up.  “Now, if you are both done beating your chests, can we get back to the business at hand, namely the difficulties the broken curse may cause us?”

Hades shot Rumple a dirty look and received one in return, and then both guys turned toward Cora. “Yes, my love,” he said meekly.  “Do you have any ideas about the best way to handle this situation?”

Cora eyed the two of them assessingly and then nodded. “I believe in this instance Rumple may have a point.”

Rumple shot Hades a smug look.

“In what way?” Hades said through clenched teeth.

“The chaos the broken curse is likely to bring would be rather…unpleasant should we be planning to remain here,” Cora said, “but we are not. We plan on ascending to better things.  That being the case, the chaos could, in fact, work to our advantage.  We do, after all, only have to wait two more days before we put our plan into effect.  This broken curse may be all the distraction we need to keep the heroes out of our way.  After all, even if they’ve learned that Rumple is a traitor, they have no idea of the immediacy of our plans.”

Hades smiled. “Quite true, my love.”

“And if they catch onto us and follow us back into the land of the living where they may very well find a way to thwart us?” Rumple asked.

Cora shrugged. “We make sure they can’t follow us.  We further make sure they can’t decide to simply take their pirate and go home before we’re able to enact our plan.”

“And just how do we do that?”

“A simple protection spell should do,” Cora said. “We erect a border around the entirety of the town, one that is entirely impermeable to those who are alive.”

“But sustaining a spell like that requires the caster to be present,” Hades said. “As soon as we’ve left, they’ll once more be able to follow us.”

“No, they won’t,” Rumple said, smile spreading over his face. “Did you forget the promise you made to me, Hades?  I agreed to help you on the condition my enemies be trapped here forever.  Once your chosen band of villains has passed through our heroes they will no longer be among the living.”

Hades smiled. “You know, you two are kind of smart when you put your heads together.  I think we may still be right on track!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It took Emma a moment to realize just what had happened. One minute she’d been in a crazy burning room and the next, she was looking up into the concerned eyes of the man she loved.

“Swan!” he breathed, “you’re here! You found me!”

And suddenly she knew, she just _knew_ what had happened.  She _knew_ what that burning room was and she knew why she’d woken.

Killian had given her a True Love’s Kiss and it had broken her curse. And if it had broken _her_ curse, it surely had broken his as well.

She reached up with a shaking hand and caressed his face, her heart turning over when he leaned into her touch. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

He smiled, joy and pure relief mingled. “I’d be daft to doubt you, my love, no matter what you put your mind to.”

Killian leaned down and captured her lips again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her, needing to hold him, needing to feel him there with her. Him, _really_ him, not the imitation, not Colin Delamer.  Killian Jones, her Killian Jones.

She poured every ounce of her love and relief into the kiss as tears bathed her face—hers? His?  She didn’t know.  All she knew was that they were together.  Finally, finally together.  No darkness, no curse standing between them, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced.

The kiss was slow but oh so thorough, and Emma would have been perfectly content to lie against the cold, dirty, rocky ground kissing him for the next eight hours or so, but then her father cleared his throat. Very insistently.

“As glad as I am that you’ve both woken from your respective curses,” he said wryly, “this is exactly the kind of thing I don’t need to know about.”

Killian froze, and sat back, looking over the group with wide eyes, as though only now realizing the rest of them were there. Slowly, his expression morphed from joy to utter horror, and he backed away from all of them, his hands outstretched as though in supplication.

“No!” he cried gutturally. “No, no, no, no no!  You _can’t_ be here.  Gods above tell me I’m hallucinating.  Swan, love, you _can’t be here!_ ”

Emma got to her feet and stepped toward him. “Of course I’m here, Killian!” she said, brow furrowed in confusion.  “Did you really think I’d let you rot in the Underworld?”

“No!” he moaned again, the heartbroken sound tearing through Emma. “Love, how?  Why?  I thought…I thought I’d saved you!  I thought I’d protected you!  How did I fail?”

She was confused for another moment, before it suddenly struck her. He must think…. “No!” she said quickly, stepping forward to take his hand.  “No, Killian!  We’re not dead!  That’s not why we’re here!  We’re very much alive, and we found a way to open a portal.  We’re here to _save_ you.”

He looked frantic for another moment, and then squeezed her hand, his eyes going wide. “You…you did that for me?”

“Of course, for you, you idiot,” she said, caressing his face with her free hand and smiling tenderly. “What did you think?  We suddenly decided hell sounded like a nice vacation destination?”

“Suppose not,” he said, “but Swan…it was incredibly dangerous! I…I’m not worth it.”

Emma frowned fiercely. “Of course you’re worth it!” she said vehemently.  Suddenly her face crumbled.  “I…I don’t think I could have had any kind of a life without you, especially knowing this whole stupid thing is my fault.  So as soon as I realized we had a way to get here, I came.”

There were tears in his eyes as he disentangled their fingers, and brought his hand up to her face. Slowly he leaned his forehead against hers.  “Not your fault, love.  Not your fault.”

They stood there like that for long moments, merely breathing each other in, and then finally David spoke again. “I guess this finally gives you your answer ‘Prince Charles’.  She definitely _would_ go to the ends of the world—or even the Underworld—for you.”

Killian stepped away from Emma and glanced over the group, his eyes going wider once more. “Bloody hell,” he murmured.  “All of you?  All of you came?”

“Duh, Killian!” Henry said with a wide smile. “You’re part of our family.”

“We all love you,” Snow insisted in her particular earnest voice. “We were all devastated when you died.”

“And finding each other is what this family does,” David said firmly. “We weren’t letting our daughter’s true love suffer in hell if there was any way to prevent it.”

“And besides,” Regina threw in, “if we left you down here, we’d be down a pirate mascot. Can’t have that, can we?” 

“Good to see you again, Mate,” Robin said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Killian seemed at a loss for words, his mouth dropping open and his eyes shining and shimmering with unshed tears.

“M..my thanks,” he finally managed.

“This was quite the touching family reunion,” Hercules finally spoke from a few feet beyond the group, “but it’s turned rather cold. Maybe we’d be best off taking this conversation inside.”

“Yeah,” David answered, “and it’d probably good to plan our next move as well.”

They took the short walk back to the house by the sea, Emma’s hand firmly clasped in Killian’s, her head resting on his shoulder. It was still unreal, still felt like a dream.  But her dad was right, they might have scored a victory, but they’d hardly won the war yet.  As much as she’d like to just curl up beside Killian in his soft bed and sleep for a week, they had work to do.

They all settled themselves in Killian’s living room. “I’ve so many questions I hardly know where to start,” Killian said. 

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” Snow said reassuringly. “Our first order of business is saving you.”

His brows furrowed. “Forgive me for stating the obvious,” he said, “but how the bloody hell do you propose doing that?  The only way to bring one back from the dead is to have that person trade places with one of the living, and I absolutely will not agree to that.  None of you will languish here while I enjoy life in the world above.”

“While it would certainly be tempting to leave Rumple here in your place,” Regina said dryly, “that’s not our plan.”

Killian looked back and forth among all of them when no one spoke again for several moments. “Well?” he asked finally.  “What precisely _is_ your plan.”

Emma took a deep breath. This was going to be the tricky part—not the heart splitting itself, she didn’t have a moment’s doubt that would work, but the convincing Killian part.  She looked around at the group.  “Guys, can you give us a minute?”

There were various murmurs of consent and slowly everyone filed out of the room. As soon as they were alone, Emma turned toward Killian and took his hands—both real and artificial—in hers.  “Killian, first I have to apologize to you, for what I did back in Camelot.”

He waved her off. “Swan it’s forgiven and forgotten.  You most assuredly did nothing worse than I did while under the influence of the darkness.”

“I appreciate that you’re willing to forgive me,” she said, “but I still want to apologize. When I saw you bleed out before me, I panicked and all I could think about was what it would do to me, what losing you would mean to me.  I went against your express wishes and turned you into the very monster you’ve despised for centuries, and for that there aren’t words to tell you how sorry I am.”

He leaned forward and kissed her again. “I love you, Emma Swan, and I meant what I said that day I found out the truth. _All_ sins can be forgiven when you have someone who loves you.  I forgive you, now and always.”

Emma smiled and gave him one more quick peck. “Thank you, and I love you too.  The thing is…I don’t _ever_ want to do something like that to you again.  I don’t ever want to disregard your wishes.  We have a way to save you and bring you home with us, but it has to be your choice.  You have to decide whether to come back with us or not.  If…If you decide you’re content here and don’t want to go back to the world, I’ll respect your wishes.”

He was silent for a moment, and Emma’s heart pounded in dread. What if he _did_ choose to stay?  It would nearly kill her.

But then he smiled, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “Of course I want to go back with you, Swan,” he said.  “There is nothing in any of the realms I want more than that future we planned together.”

She sagged with relief. “Good, good,” was all she could say.

“Now what is this brilliant plan to restore me to the land of the living without sacrificing a living person?”

Emma took a deep breath, instinctively knowing this wouldn’t go well. “We take a page out of my parents’ book.  We let our true love save us.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember back when we were battling Zelena the first time?” Emma asked. Killian nodded and she continued.  “My parents cast the curse to bring everyone back to Storybrooke.  My mom crushed my dad’s heart….and then she had Regina split hers in two so that they each could have a half.”

His reaction was swift and sure. He surged to his feet and paced away from her.  “No!” he shouted.  “No!  Emma it’s far too dangerous!  If it fails you’ll _die_.”

Emma got to her feet as well, stepping toward him. “It _won’t_ fail, and even if it does, I don’t care.  A life without you isn’t any kind of life at all.”

“I won’t let you do it!” he said earnestly. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me!  I _deserve_ to be here after my long centuries as a villain, you…you deserve to live a long full life!”

“And that’s exactly what I plan to do,” Emma insisted. “I intend to live a long, full life with you by my side.  This will work, Killian!  I know it will!”

“But…?”

“No buts!” Emma insisted, taking his hand and looking deeply into his eyes. “Killian I love you to the very depths of my being.  I didn’t even know love this strong was _possible_.  You have become such a vital part of me I can barely even function without you.  So the question is, do you love me?”

He cupped her cheek, looking down at her with troubled eyes. “You know I do, Swan.  I love you more than my very life.”

Emma turned her head and kissed his palm. “And our love just broke a curse—two in fact, both yours and mine.  We have _proof_ that our love is True Love.  Please, please let us try this!  I know our love is strong enough to whether this storm!”

“Emma…” he said hesitantly.

“She’s right,” came a voice from the other side of the room. Emma whirled in the direction.  She hadn’t even heard her parents come back in.  “I’ve watched the two of you together, and the way you look at her is the way I look at Snow.  I know how much you love her, and I know how much she loves you.  This is your best chance, my friend, and I know it will work.”

Killian turned toward him. “You truly believe…”

“Yes,” David said firmly. “You know me, Killian.  You know what my family means to me.  If I had any doubt this would work, if there was even the smallest part of me that thought I’d lose my daughter through this act, I’d be doing everything in my power to talk her out of doing this.”

Killian was silent for a moment, seemingly warring within himself. Finally he nodded.  “Very well, Swan.  Lead on.   I would be honored to receive half of your heart.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Killian watched as Emma hugged her parents and her lad, smiles on their faces, not a hint of worry from any of them.

“Don’t worry mom,” Henry said, “this is going to _work_!”

“I know it will, kid,” Emma said, giving him another quick, one-armed hug. “Not worried for a moment.”

She turned back toward him. “Alright?” she said, “ready?”

He took her hand and let her lead her up the stairs, Regina following behind. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They made their way to the master bedroom and he and Emma lay down on the bed, both instinctively turning onto their sides to face each other. “I love you, Emma,” he murmured, “with everything within me, and I always will.”

“I love you too,” she replied, wiping at a stray tear, “and just known that I always will, no matter what. Even if something goes wrong here…don’t blame yourself okay?  I love you, and I’d still love you even if this failed.”

They leaned forward until their lips met, the kiss tender and loving. Killian determinedly pushed the fear aside.  He refused to think about this as their last kiss.  This _wouldn’t_ be their last kiss!  This _would_ work!

Finally, they parted, and both laid back against the comforter.

“Alright, Regina,” Emma said firmly, “we’re ready.”

Regina stepped forward, having pulled back and looked out the window to give them a last moment of privacy before performing the magical “heart transplant”.

“Just try to relax,” Regina said. “This is going to be painful, Miss Swan, but it _will_ work.”

“I know,” Emma said, “and I’m ready. Go ahead Regina.”

Killian tensed despite his best intentions as he watched Regina reach into Emma’s chest and pull out her strong, red heart. Emma cried out briefly, quickly stifling the sound by biting her lip.  She squeezed his hand as though to assure him all was well.

Killian held his breath as he watched Regina gently twist and pull at the heart until it was cleaved in two. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then moved forward.  “Here it goes,” she muttered as she shoved the heart halves back into each chest.

Killian gasped, suddenly feeling _alive_.  It was the oddest sensation.  He hadn’t felt _dead_ before, hadn’t noticed anything was missing, but suddenly, everything became more vibrant, more beautiful.  Every feeling and sensation more attuned. 

He sat quickly, turning toward Emma, his new heart racing as he waited for her to wake, to breathe, to prove she still lived.

It seemed to take forever, but finally, the color came back to her face, she opened her eyes and gasped for breath like a drowning woman finally reaching the surface.

“Did it work?” Emma asked, looking around.

Regina smiled broadly. “Indeed it did.  If it had failed, you wouldn’t have woken.  Welcome back you too.  Looks like Hook’ll be coming home with us after all.”

_Notes:_

_\--Yay! Another hurdle cleared for the heroes.  Killian now has half of Emma’s heart, so he can go home with them…that is assuming, of course, they manage to help Hercules defeat Hades before he traps all of them down in the Underworld forever!_

_\--For those wondering…I know Cora wasn’t able to take Emma’s heart against her will, but I wrote this chapter with the belief that her heart could be taken if she does it herself, or if she gives someone else permission to take it. After all…if that’s not the case, canon Emma’s got a pretty significant logical issue with her “save Killian” plan!_

_\--Up next: Back in time, Megara stages an attack and manipulates Hercules into “saving” her.  The two of them meet, and Meg starts getting to know him, trying to find a way to trick him into drinking the immortality potion.   In the present, there’s a feeling of triumph among the heroes in the house by the sea, but eventually they decide it’s time to get back to business.  Hercules once again reiterates how important it is he find—and save—Megara.  Killian suddenly remembers something very useful from his early days in the Underworld._


	19. Chapter 19

_Enchanted Forest, a few years before the original Dark Curse_

Meg left her house the very next day in search of Hercules. She had no idea where to go, where to look.  She knew he was in the Enchanted Forest, but other than that…she had nothing to go by.

She’d definitely gotten the impression that he had a hero complex. As she walked toward the nearest village, she rolled her eyes.  He was probably one of those big, muscly, empty-headed fools who thought women were nothing but delicate, fainting flowers just waiting for a man to come save them.

Meg hoped that’s what Hercules was like. She could find a way to justify her actions if he was a misogynistic jerk.  She’d be doing the world a favor making sure he could never become fully god.

If he was a good man…well, she didn’t want to think about that.

After wandering around rather aimlessly for a good half a day, Meg finally came up with something resembling a plan. The guy had a hero complex?  Fine.  She’d go off in search of the nearest village that needed saving.  There’d been a rumor of a dragon terrorizing a village a few miles north of here, hadn’t there?  Seemed as good a place to start as any.

Megara was so focused on her task, so focused on the vial of human juice in her pocket that she had to get muscle-man to drink, that she didn’t notice the band of brigands until they had her encircled.

There were at least ten of them—big rough men that looked and smelled like they’d never seen a bar of soap in their lives. The nearest one leered at her, grinning grotesquely, his rotting teeth and fetid breath enough to turn the strongest stomach.

“Well, now, look what we’ve got here, boys,” he said in a grating voice. “Looks like a lady in need of some…companionship.”

“I think we can help her with that,” another man said suggestively.

Meg rolled her eyes. _Really_?  She didn’t have time for this.  She had a partial-god to go screw over.

“Look guys,” she said, pushing idiot #1 aside and trying to move past. “Not interested in company.  Kind of busy at the moment.  Can you just call yourselves leches and punch yourselves out?  I’m in a time crunch and don’t have time to do it myself.”

Of course, that went over just about as well as one might expect it to.

The oaf she’d pushed aside growled like a wounded bear and then lunged for her, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her toward him. “Not a chance, girly,” he said,  “Not a chance we let you get away with that kind of disrespect.  Come on boys lets teach this strumpet to keep a civil tongue in her mouth.”

Meg fought back fiercely, punching, kicking, doing everything she could think to get free, but there were just too many of them. She was just coming to the conclusion that she might be in quite a bit of trouble when a new voice broke out over the crowd.

“Hey!” the man said, “the lady told you she’s not interested. Let her go!”

The leader laughed humorlessly, turning toward the newcomer. “You gonna make us, sonny boy?”

Meg wrenched her arm away from the man holding it, and peered at the newcomer. He was handsome, and his eyes flashed with anger and indignation.  He balled his large hands into fists and brought them up near his face in a fighter’s stance.  “If I have to, yes.  I most certainly will.”

The men around her laughed, and she groaned. It was nice of him, and all to try to defend her, but one man against ten?  It would be a slaughter! 

Apparently recklessness was part of this guy’s makeup, though, because he charged into the fray. He made his way first toward Meg and pushed her aside until she was free of the ruckus, and then he fought.  Meg watched wide eyed as the man not only held his own, but definitively defeated each and every one of her would-be attackers.  Who _was_ this man?

Ten minutes after the fight broke out, it was over.  The men who’d attacked her scrambled and scattered like a pack of cockroaches facing the light.  Megara looked up at her defender wide-eyed, as she sat heavily on the grass where she’d fallen when he’d pushed her aside.

The man watched until all the brigands were out of sight, and then turned toward Meg with a grin. He offered her a hand, and she tentatively took it, letting him help her to her feet.

His smile grew. “Glad I was passing by.  Looked like you could use my help.”

That snapped her out of it. She wrenched her hand away from him.  (She hadn’t realized she’d let it remain in his even after she was back on her feet.)  “Yeah, I’m not exactly a damsel in distress.  I could have handled it!”

The man raised his hands in surrender and shot her an amused look. “I’ve no doubt you could,” he said, “but ten against one…not great odds.”

She frowned, crossing her arms. “The odds didn’t stop you.”

“I…” he said, looking almost bashful. “I’ve always been unusually strong.  Nice to be able to use my strength for something useful for a change.”

Hm…well _that_ was interesting.  She wondered…had she just found her mark without even trying?  She narrowed her eyes.  “Who are you?”

“My name’s Hercules,” he said. “And you?”

She offered her hand again, and he shook it. “My name is Megara.  Um…I guess I should thank you for, you know, saving me.”

He waved aside her thanks. “I only did what anyone else would have done if they could.”

Meg didn’t know what to make of this man before her. He _seemed_ kind and humble…but then so had Michael, at least at first.  This guy was probably just trying to win her over, gain her trust so he could crush her.  No man could be _that_ handsome and charismatic without having some kind of ulterior motive.

The guilt slammed into her without warning. Isn’t that exactly what she was planning to do to him?  Win his trust so she could crush him? He may or may not be sincere, but she sure as hell wasn’t.  What room did she have to talk, really?

Taking a deep breath, Meg pushed the guilt away. No, what she was doing wasn’t…ideal, but she didn’t really have a choice, did she?  Her life, her soul was no longer her own…literally.  If she did this one, unpleasant job she would win her freedom.  She _had_ to push forward; no time for qualms.

She looked over Hercules, steeling herself against his (apparently) open and friendly gaze. Time to turn on the charm.

“Oh!” she said, noting his torn sleeve, his bleeding arm, the eye that seemed to be quickly purpling. “You’re hurt!”

He looked down at his arm in surprise, as though just now noticing the wound.   He prodded it with his other hand, and then shrugged, looking back at her.  “It’s just a scratch.  I’ve certainly endured far worse.  Don’t trouble yourself, my lady.”

Meg felt her heart flutter at the term. He sounded so sincere, so…almost in awe…as he addressed her that way.  She gritted her teeth, mentally chewing herself out.  The very _last_ thing she needed was to let her hormones take over.  So he was handsome.  Big deal!  Lots of men were handsome.  She wasn’t some giggling, empty headed ditz.  She could very well keep her attraction or…whatever…in check!

“Nonsense,” she said, reaching for his hand and leading him toward a nearby stream. “You got hurt trying to save me.  The least I can to is try to patch you up a little.”

He smiled. “Well if you insist, go ahead and lead on.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hercules followed the young woman—Megara was it?—meekly as she led him toward the stream. Truth be told he was in a bit of a daze.  She was, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, with her long, brown hair, currently in a thick braid that hung over her shoulder, and her green eyes. 

But it wasn’t merely her looks that attracted him, it was her fire and spirit. The way she’d struggled, been willing to take on every one of those thugs attacking her if need be, the way she’d crossed her arms and told him she didn’t need help, the way her eyes flashed at the very thought anyone could find her to be a damsel in distress.  She was magnificent.

He felt a thrill shoot through him at her touch, not unlike the jolt he received after a heroic deed that brought him one step closer to his god-hood. His heart pounded, and he felt as though there was nothing he couldn’t do.

He was dangerously close to being completely, totally and thoroughly smitten.

He’d never been so captivated by another person this quickly in his life.

As she gently cleaned his wounds and bandaged them with strips taken from the hem of her own petticoat, he watched her, hoping she felt the pull to him as strongly as he felt it to her.

She’d seemed to be travelling when he came across her. Maybe…maybe he could convince her to let him be her travelling companion.  He hadn’t a clue where she was heading or if she’d even welcome his company.  All he knew was that if he let her walk away from him without even asking for her company, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Regina muttered something about going down to tell the others it had been a success, and then quickly left the bedroom. Emma spared her a quick glance, and then turned back toward Killian.  He smiled broadly at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.  She returned the smile, and then reached for him, helping him to a sitting position.  She cupped his face in her hands, softly caressing.

“Did it…” she said, then cleared her throat, hoping to steady her voice. “Did it really work? Are you really okay?”

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. The kiss was far too short, and she chased his lips as he pulled away, prompting a chuckle from him.  “Aye, love,” he murmured.  “It worked.  I feel…I feel better than I’ve ever felt.”

“Good,” she said, tears welling up and spilling over. She laughed through the tears, caressing his face, his shoulders, his hair, anything she could reach.  “Good.”

She wanted to say so much more—about how much she loved him, about how relieved she was to have him back with her, about how excited she was to get home and start their life together. She wanted to tell him all of this and more in lofty, poetic language that did justice to the emotions flooding her heart, but the words wouldn’t come.

His smile turned infinitely more tender, and he carded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. He understood; she could tell he did.  Truth be told, they never had truly needed words between them, they’d always been so attuned to each other.  But now…now that they literally were of one heart…now she felt connected to him so strongly and so intimately that the thought of being parted from him wasn’t even to be considered.

He leaned forward and captured her lips again, and Emma poured all the emotions she couldn’t speak into the kiss. The kiss began gentle, almost tentative, but quickly grew in intensity.  Emma fell back against the bed, Killian coming with her, lying on top of her, and she knew that she could never get close enough to him, could never get enough of his kiss, his touch.

Far too soon for Emma’s taste, Killian pulled away, breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard.  “Perhaps we’d best slow down, my love.”

She tugged gently on the shaggy ends of his hair. “Not sure I want to slow down.”

He groaned and then sat up, offering his hand to help her do the same. “Aye, but I’d wager your parents and your lad would like to assure themselves that you are really and truly well.”

She cupped his face once more. “Not just me; both of us,” she insisted.  “They want you to be alive and well again as much as I do…well, maybe not _quite_ as much.”

He smiled at her. “Very well, shall we go assure our family that we are both very much alive and well?”

“Okay,” she said getting to her feet, and then stopping him with a hand to his chest. “But can I ask you something first?”

“Anything, my heart,” he said, (and yes, she could freely admit she thrilled to the new, and very literally true endearment).

She smiled mischievously. “Would you please, please, _please_ stop dying?  Three times in the space of a few months!  Killian, there’s being dramatic and then there’s just being flat out ridiculous.”

He laughed, and then took her hand, bringing her palm to his mouth for a quick kiss. “I shall certainly do my best.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Mary Margaret watched as her daughter, Killian and Regina disappeared up the stairs, and then she sat heavily on the couch next to her husband.

Charming took her hand, turning to look toward her. “Hey,” he said softly, “everything’s going to be alright.  This is going to work.”

She smiled tremulously at him. “I know.  I have absolute faith that their love is true and strong enough for this.  I know in my heart this is absolutely going to work.”

“But you’re still nervous,” Charming stated.

“I can’t help it,” she said softly, careful not to let Henry overhear. “It’s our daughter we’re talking about David.  She’s having her heart ripped out and torn in two.  Even if I’m confident of the outcome…I can’t help a little bit of worry.”

David hugged her to him. “I know, honey,” he said with a sigh.  “I guess all we can do is have faith and trust in our daughter’s love.”

The group was silent, tense as they waited for the outcome of the procedure, Hercules making an attempt at small talk to break the tension, but giving up when no one really joined in.

Luckily they didn’t have long to wait. Less than ten minutes after the three disappeared up the stairs, Mary Margaret heard the bedroom door close, followed by footsteps on the hardwood stairs.  Mary Margaret got to her feet, tensely taking David’s hand, squeezing so hard he was probably loosing circulation.

A moment later Regina emerged alone, and Mary Margaret wondered if that was a good thing…or a bad one.

And then Regina smiled broadly, and Mary Margaret let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It must be good news!

“So?” Henry asked eagerly, rushing to his other mother. “Did it work?  Are mom and Killian alright?”

Regina gave Henry a quick hug. “That they are,” she said.  “It worked perfectly; exactly as we hoped.”

“Yes!” Henry said, pumping his fist into the air. “But mom, there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that, Henry?” Regina asked.

“How did you do it? Didn’t you and mom lose your magic when we got down here?  How did you split her heart without your magic.”

Regina grinned, conjured a fireball in her hand, and tossed it into the fireplace. “That must have been quite the powerful True Love’s Kiss Miss Swan and her pirate shared.  As soon as they kissed, my magic all came rushing back.  I could feel it even before they pulled away from each other.”

“Hm,” Robin said, coming up and wrapping an arm around Regina’s waist. “Any ideas how that could have happened?”

Hercules suddenly straightened, wide smile on his face. “I think I may have one.”

“What’s that?” Henry asked.

“I think the True Love’s Kiss had farther reaching consequences than we knew,” he said. “Magic is inherent in the Underworld.  In its natural state, magic is everywhere here.  When I found out who I really was, I learned as much as I possibly could about the supernatural world.  What I found, without  doubt, is that this is a place of magic.”

“So why couldn’t my moms use their magic when we got here?” Henry asked.

“Hades’ curse,” Hercules said. “It suppressed the magic.”

“So…” David said, “you think Emma and Killian’s kiss broke more than just their own curses? You think it broke Hades’ curse as well?”

“I’m almost sure of it,” Hercules said. “And if magic has returned to the Underworld, Hades’ rule is definitely weakening.  This can’t be anything but a good thing for us!”

There was sound on the stairs once again, and Mary Margaret turned back in that direction. Emma and Killian, holding hands and smiling so broadly their faces likely hurt, walked together back into the room.

“Mom! Killian!” Henry called out, running to them and wrapping them both in his arms.  “You guys did it!  It worked!”

Emma hugged her son back, and then looked over the group, stopping to give her mother a smile. “Yeah, kid, it did.”

“Aye lad,” Killian said happily. “As I’ve said, I’m a survivor.”

Emma swatted at his chest. “And, as we’ve already discussed,” she said smiling up at him, “you’re going to stop testing that fact.”

“As my lady wishes,” he agreed with a grin.

Mary Margaret waited as Henry and then David embraced Emma and Killian, and then took her own turn, holding her daughter tight, closing her eyes and just holding her little girl. “I’m so happy for you honey,” she said softly.

“Me too,” Emma answered. “Thanks for helping me have hope, even when things looked the worst.”

“You’re welcome,” Snow said, turning toward Killian and hugging him as well—to his surprise, if his facial expression meant anything. “And now I think the tide has definitely turned.  This nightmare is almost over.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

For nearly an hour the group celebrated, despite the ridiculously late hour, talking, laughing, sharing stories, generally enjoying each other and the fact that they were all _alive_ and on their way to an ultimate victory.

Hercules looked around at this group, strangers to him, but people he instinctively knew would do anything they could to help him with his quest. He was happy for them, he truly was, but a part of him chafed at the delay, no matter how hard earned.

He was running out of time.

He looked down at his lightning-bolt birthmark and sighed. It was still completely dark; not a speck of light on it.  It had been so since…it had happened.  A wave of pessimism overcame him, despite the progress they’d made today.  In order to confront Hades, he had to be restored to his god status, and now that he was fully mortal, he had no idea how he could accomplish it.

Eventually the boisterous group in the house by the sea calmed into a far more sedate happiness, and it was a question from Killian that sobered everyone and set their minds back on the mission before them.

He sat in an easy chair by the fire, Emma settled on his lap. “Not that I ever doubted you,” he said, looking around at the group, “but how precisely did you make it to the Underworld, and shall we take the same method home?”

Hercules watched as Emma stiffened. “Killian…” she said in a strangled voice; her face showing obvious anger.  “We used Gold’s blood to get here.”

Killian looked around as though he expected this “Gold” to be hiding in a corner he’d missed. “Aye, love?” he asked.  “Even my old Crocodile agreed to help me?”

“Not…exactly,” David said, face grim. “We more or less had to blackmail him into it.”

Killian looked curious.

“Killian,” Emma said again, stroking his arm. “He’s the reason we _had_ to come save you.  He’s probably the reason you’re here and not in Elysium in the first place.”

“How so, love?”

Her face hardened again. “You sacrificed your life, _everything,_ to destroy the darkness once and for all.”

“Aye love, so I did,” he said, brow furrowed.

“But…Rumple-freaking-stiltskin stole that, _all of that,_ from you!” Emma growled, getting to her feet and pacing.  “He used some sort of magic to turn Excalibur into a conduit.  When I…when I…stabbed you, the darkness wasn’t destroyed, it was just transferred back to him.”

“ _What_?”  Killian yelled, jumping to his feet as well.  “Swan, _you_ planned to use that sword on _yourself_! _You_ planned to sacrifice yourself!  He would have allowed you, the mother of his _grandson_ to die in vain?!!”

“Apparently so,” Emma seethed. “But as long as he has his precious power, his precious Dark One status back, doesn’t seem to matter to him.”

Killian cursed loud and fluently. When he finally fell silent, Regina spoke up.  “I hate to say it, but I’m afraid it’s even worse than that.  Rumplestiltskin came here with us, and…now he’s working with Hades and Cora.  I don’t know what he’s up to, but I’d bet everything I have he’s planning to screw us over somehow.”

The joy and jubilation of a few moments ago seemed to have all been sucked out of the room. “So,” Killian finally said, “we can no longer count on using his blood to return to the land of the living.”

“Nope,” Emma said, settling back on Killian’s lap. “I’m afraid not.”

“So…we’re trapped here?” Killian asked.

“Actually no,” Hercules said, finally speaking up. In a few short, concise sentences, he updated the newly-living man on the prophecy and their plans to defeat the Lord of the Dead on the night the stars align.  “I think we can safely assume you and Miss Swan are the couple who’s love is stronger than death,” Hercules said, “so now we only need to find a way to restore my god status.”

“Is that all?” Regina said under her breath.

“Okay,” Emma said, clearly ready to fight once again, “so how do we do that?”

Hercules dropped his head. “That is the question,” he said in defeat.  “I was told long ago that I would regain my birthright when I become a true hero.  I tried; I did all I knew how to become that hero, but it’s gone now.  All of it.  I’ve…we’ll I’ve lost all of my god hood.  I…made a deal that ended very very badly.   Now I wonder if I’m even capable of becoming a hero.”

“Of course you are!” Snow White said earnestly. “We _all_ make the decision to be heroes or villains or to just give up altogether.  You _can_ be that hero you’re meant to be, and we’ll do _everything_ in our power to help you!”

Hercules felt hope and optimism bubble up despite himself. There was something about Snow White that made it feel like nothing, no matter how outlandish, was impossible.  “Will you really?”

“Of course we will!” Henry added.

“That’s what this family does,” Emma added, “among other things. I’m the savior right?  I bring back the happy endings.  You helped me bring back mine, so now I’m going to do whatever I can to help you bring back yours.”

“Thank you,” Hercules said simply, rather overwhelmed by the support before him.

“Do you have any idea what ‘proving yourself a hero’ might entail?” Robin asked from his seat on the sofa next to Regina.

Hercules shrugged. “There is only one thing I _know_ I have to do; it’s what I’ve been trying to do for years now.”

“You want to find the woman you love,” Snow White breathed.

“Yes, exactly,” he answered. “She doesn’t belong here; she shouldn’t _be_ here!  It’s _my_ fault she’s trapped in the Underworld, and no matter what else I do or don’t do, I cannot allow her to rot here because I failed her!”

Killian perked up and sat taller in his chair. “This woman you seek,” he said.  “What did she look like?”

“She’s beautiful,” Hercules said simply. “Long brown hair, green eyes.”

“Something of a spitfire?” Killian asked.

“Maybe I’d use the word spirited,” Hercules said with a fond smile, “but yes. Do you…do you know her?”

“Perhaps,” Killian said, gently moving Emma aside and getting to his feet.  “I hadn’t remembered until just now, but when I awoke just after my death, I was chained, awaiting my sentencing.  There was a woman there, chained next to me.  Perhaps that woman is your love.”

Hercules got to his feet. “Where?  Do you know where this sentencing room is?”

Killian smiled broadly. “Aye, mate.  That I do.  Hades judges his new souls in this very house, in the cellar.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Megara slumped against the wall of her prison, despair threatening to drown her. How many months, how many _years_ had she been here?  She’d watched thousands of poor souls meet their ultimate judgement, but she would never be so lucky.  Maybe it was about time to admit that Hades planned to keep her here forever.

She should have known this would happen if she failed him.

When he’d first dragged her to the Underworld she’d been full of anger, full of fire. She’d tugged at her bonds until her wrists bled, convinced she could free herself, convinced she could get out.

Where she’d go if she ever escaped this literal hell hole, she had no idea. Where in the Underworld do you _go_ to hide from the god of the dead?

But as the weeks and months went by with her never making the slightest headway, the anger slowly cooled into hopelessness.

She had one consolation and one consolation alone. Though she was trapped here, she saw every single person who was brought for judgement.  To this day, Hercules had never, _never_ appeared.  As every new soul arrived, she breathed a sigh of relief that the man she’d come to care about more than her own life had escaped from Hades.

A small part of her hoped he’d find a way to find her, to save her, but whenever the thought arose, she ruthlessly quashed it. She knew full well he wouldn’t come for her.  After what she did to him…how could he?  He’d lost his heritage; he’d lost his god-hood because of her.  There was no way he could ever forgive her.

Likely he lived his life up there in the Enchanted Forest cursing her name and trying to forget she’d ever existed.

There was a sound at the top of the stairs, and Megara got to her feet. Great.  Must be another infusion of new souls.  She couldn’t wait.

But when the door above opened, it wasn’t one of the demons carrying an unconscious soul to be chained beside her, it was…the man who’d been sentenced a few days before. Killian, wasn’t it?

Barely had he cleared the door, a lovely blonde woman holding to his arm, than she heard it. She heard _him_.

“Meg!” he cried. “Meg are you here?  Are you down here?  Please, my darling, answer!”

“Here!” she called weakly, more than half afraid she was dreaming. She cleared her throat and tried again.  “I’m here!”

She watched as a blur sprinted down the stairs and to her side. When he moved into the light, the tears welled in her eyes and spilled over.  It was _him_!  It was really _him!_

He was at her side in an instant, sparing her little more than a glance before he turned his attention to her chains. With one mighty tug, he pulled the entire chain from the wall behind her, then he turned his attention to the hand cuffs around her wrists.

But pull as he might, they would not budge.

“Here, let me” the blonde woman said, stepping forward. “Could be they’re magical.  I might be able to help.”

Hercules nodded once and then stepped back. The blonde woman stepped forward, smiled briefly at Meg and then focused on the handcuffs Meg held out in front of her.  At first nothing happened, and the blonde woman growled in frustration. 

Killian stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, dropping a kiss to her neck. “You can do this, Swan,” he murmured.

She smiled briefly, and then turned her attention back toward the handcuffs. After a moment a beam of bright, white light emanated from her fingers, and a moment later, Meg felt the cuffs fall from her wrists.

The moment she was free, Hercules was there, wrapping her in his arms, burying his head in her hair, saying her name over and over again. She held him to her, for long moments saying nothing, letting the tears flow.

Eventually—Meg had no idea how much later—Hercules stepped back, only far enough to look into his face. He grinned softly.  “Don’t worry Meg, I know.  You’re not a damsel in distress.  You could have handled this on your own.”

She chuckled. “Damn right, and don’t you forget it!”

She surged forward, kissing him with everything in her. Later there would be time to ask him how he’d come here, what he planned to do, how it was he could possibly forgive her for what she’d done.  But for now, for this one blessed moment, all was well, and she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever.

_Notes:_

_\--So did you remember the woman that was chained up down there in the cellar? Now you know it was Meg!  I realize there’s a lot of vagueness in the way Hercules and Meg talk about what happened to and between them there in the current day section, but I can’t be any more direct yet.  That’s part of the story that’s yet to be told!_

_\--Up next: Back in time, Megara keeps Hercules with her (and starts to bond with him), by enlisting his help for a mission she makes up.  The problem?  The more she gets to know him, the more she likes him—and the less she wants to go through with Hades’ demands.  In the present, Hades and company learn that Hercules has been spotted in the Underworld—and he’s found Megara.  They work even harder to set everything in motion, hoping that they can run out the clock.  They only have one more night before the blue moon after all.  We’ll get a few cameos from people who will benefit quite a bit if their plan succeeds.  Meanwhile, after getting a few hours of sleep (remember this chapter took place after midnight), Emma and the rest of the clan come up with an idea to help Hercules regain his hero status and god-hood._


	20. Chapter 20

_Enchanted Forest, a few years before the Dark Curse_

It had taken significantly less effort and energy to talk Hercules into staying with her than Meg had expected.  As she cleaned and bandaged his wounds by the stream, she saw the look in his eyes.  He was smitten with her already.  She probably could have said anything and he’d agree to travel with her, but she came up with an elaborate story nonetheless.

Somehow it made her feel less guilty, although she had no idea how adding a lie onto betrayal made things any better.  Still, at least the lie gave him an opportunity to be heroic rather than a love-sick pup, so maybe she was doing a good thing, saving his dignity and all.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Meg tied off the bandage around Hercules’ muscly arm.  “So, what brings you to this part of the Enchanted Forest?” she asked.  “You have family in the area?”

He shook his head.  “My family lives…well, far away.  _Very_ far away.  I guess you could say I’ve been on a quest, a quest to help as many people as possible.”

“Trying to be a hero?” Meg asked, sitting back against the grassy bank and peering over at him.

He frowned slightly.  “Yes…” he finally said, drawing out the syllable.  “My main task is to become a true hero, but I’ve found it’s more than just about _me_.”

Meg furrowed her brows.  “How so?”

“The people I help are, well, _people_ ,” he answered, giving her an earnest look.  “I _like_ being able to use my strength for good.  I _like_ being able to save people from terrible fates.  I _like_ being able to restore loved ones to their families alive and unharmed.  This strength I have…I’ve always seen it as a curse, but, I don’t know, if I can use it for good things?  In a lot of ways, that’s a reward in itself.”

_Great_!  Not only was he a muscle man but he was a genuine philanthropist?  This wasn’t good.  At all.  Meg had more than half a mind to walk away—away from him, away from her task, away from Hades’ demands. 

But she couldn’t.  She _couldn’t_ give up this opportunity.  Whatever it took, she _had_ to get her soul back.

Meg turned away, ostensibly to wash her hands in the brook.  Taking a deep breath, she shoved the guilt aside.

“Well, Wonderboy,” she said with a smirk, “are you up for another adventure?  Turns out I’m on a rescue mission, myself.  My village?  The place where my family lives?  Well, it’s currently being terrorized by a dragon.  Whatever it takes, I’m going to save them, but if I had a real live, genuine hero by my side, it might even my odds a little bit.”

Hercules got to his feet and offered her his hand.  “It would be my pleasure to go on an adventure with you.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“So then, I leaned up against one of the columns—just leaned up against it!  That’s all!  I swear!—and the next thing I knew, _boom_ the whole _place_ was caving in!  Everything destroyed!”

Meg laughed.  “Bet that went over well.”

He quirked his brow self-deprecatingly.  “Yeah.  You could say that.”

They stood still, merely looking at each other, smiling at each other for long moments, and then Hercules glanced aside.  He shot her a slightly embarrassed grin and then motioned her forward once again.

Meg felt the pain hit her then as she turned forward and once again began walking.  The longer she spent in Hercules’ presence, the more she liked him, genuinely _liked_ him.  She might not be the world’s greatest judge of characters, but with him she could _tell_.  He was the real deal—kind, compassionate, a little shy, awkward. 

He was a _good_ man, and he didn’t deserve what was in store for him.

Damn Hades and his demands and ultimatums!

“What about you?” Hercules said after a moment of silence.  “Tell me about your family.”

Meg brushed off the question.  “Not much to say.  I never really knew them.”

He gave her a curious look.  “But…are they not the reason we’re travelling now?  Are we not off to save them from the dragon?”

Meg cursed under her breath.  She had to be careful.  It was slip-ups like that that would end up blowing her cover.  “Yes…” she finally answered, thinking quickly.  “But, well, it’s complicated.  Let’s just say for most of my life I didn’t know about them any more than you knew about your family.  I finally found them, and now they’re being basically held prisoner by a fire-breathing dragon.  I just think it would be a bit easier to get to know them if they _weren’t_ char-broiled, don’t you?”

He laughed and stepped a bit closer to her.  “Well, Meg, it seems we have more in common than I thought.  Don’t worry; between the two of us, I’m sure that dragon doesn’t stand a chance.  We’ll get you to that family of yours.”

His hand brushed against hers as they walked closely together, and the unintentional touch sent shockwaves straight to her heart.  Meg felt tears prick at the back of her eyes.  She stopped him with a hand to his arm.  “And you’ll find your family too, Hercules,” she said through a tight throat.  “You _are_ a true hero, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before your birthmark shows it.”

He looked at her as though she hung the stars.  “Hearing you say it…I can almost believe it’s true.”

Meg smiled tightly, and then turned away walking quickly.  She couldn’t do this.  She couldn’t _do_ this!  What kind of a monster could look into those eyes and then deliberately trick him into giving up his only chance at finding his family, who he really was?

But what else could she do?

It was later that night as they made camp that the idea occurred to her.  Hercules built a roaring fire, gallantly offered his cloak to Meg for a pillow, and then settled in to sleep a respectful distance away.  When she was sure he was thoroughly asleep, she pulled the vial of potion from her pocket and glanced at it reflectively.  What if there was a way to more or less fulfill Hades’ requirements without completely destroying Hercules’ shot at his happy ending?

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

“It’s positively ghastly out there, darling,” Cruella said as she sauntered into Hades sitting room.  “Worse than a pack of animals.”

“I wouldn’t go out there if I were you,” Pan said, “the natives are out for your head.”

“Yes, yes,” Hades said, dismissively, “I’m not the most popular person out there at the moment.  I get it.  That wasn’t why I call you all in here today.  Can we move on?  Please?”

“Just one question,” James said, raising an index finger in the air.  “What the hell was that shockwave and why is it causing riots?”

Rumplestiltskin sneered at him.  “You may look just like your Charming twin, but you obviously got the short end of the stick when it comes to brains, didn’t you?”

James clearly bristled at that.  “You watch your tongue! Dark One or not, I will fight you, and you will rue the day you insulted me!”

Cruella rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yes darling, continue with the braggadocio,” she drawled, taking a seat and crossing her legs.  “If I recall, that’s what got you killed in the first place.”

James looked as though he wanted to respond, but before he had the chance, Nimue, glided into the room.

“True Love’s Kiss,” she said.  “The only magic capable of breaking any curse.”

“And which of our disgustingly affectionate hero couples do we have to blame for our current state of pandemonium?” Cruella asked.

“The former Dark Ones,” Nimue stated firmly.  “They may have broken free, but the connection remains.  I felt their surge of love a few hours past.”

“Yeah,” Hades said, settling beside Cora on his couch.  “Now that we’ve got that settled, can we get busy?”

“That depends,” the blind witch said, turning eerie, sightless eyes in his direction.  “Just what is it you called us all down here for?”

“Trust me, you’re going to like this!” Hades said.

“Well get on with it, we don’t have all afterlife,” Cruella said.

“First,” Hades said, “I’d like to thank each and every one of you for meeting with me today.  You’ve been loyal and true ever since you got down here, and it’s time your loyalty was rewarded.”

“I rather like the direction this is going,” Pan said.

“Yeah, thought you would,” Hades said with a big toothy grin.  “So the question is, what would you think about getting your life back….your real life on earth?”

“Go on,” James said, leaning forward on his seat.

“And there’s even more than that,” Cora added, speaking up for the first time.  “Not only will we be restored to our old, human lives, we’ll be given the opportunity to make the heroes—the once who condemned us here—pay.”

“Now we’re talking,” Cruella said.  “What I wouldn’t do to make the savior pay!”

“Precisely,” Rumple said, “and so you shall.  We all shall.”

“What do we need to do?” the blind witch asked.

“Simple,” Hades said.  “Just meet us at the graveyard at sunset tomorrow.  When the blue moon starts to rise, step through the hero of your choice and voila! You’ve traded places with them.  You get your old life back and they’re condemned to the Underworld for all of eternity.”

Nimue extended a hand.  “For my part, you’ve got a deal.”

Hades smiled as each of his associates agreed in turn.  For his part, he couldn’t care less if he took anyone with him when he went after his ultimate power, but a deal was a deal.  Annoying as he was, Rumplestiltskin had held up his end, and Hades had every intention of doing his part. 

Really, it was almost frightening how well everything was starting to come together.  After centuries of being thwarted at nearly every turn, things were finally going his way.

“Well that went well,” he said to Rumple and Cora once the rest were gone.

“Of course it did, my love,” Cora said.  “Who wouldn’t jump at a chance to regain their life and get revenge on their enemies?”

“No one with any sense,” Hades said with a chuckle.  “Guess it’s time to put that magic shield up near the river, Dark One.”

Rumple waved his hand and then smiled nastily.  “It’s done.  No one with mortal life can pass through…at least until we remove it when _we_ chose to leave.”

Hades smiled gleefully and clapped his hands together.  “Excellent.  So how do you guys want to spend our last day in the Underworld?”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Killian smiled as he woke the next morning.  Emma lay against him in his bed, her head pillowed on his chest, his hand stroking through the riotous tumble of her hair.  Gods but he loved her.

So much had happened in the last day—Emma falling under a sleeping curse, their True Love’s Kiss, his true memories returning, Emma splitting her heart with him.  He could scarce take it in.  There was much yet to do, much to fight through before they could return to the land of the living, but Killian didn’t care.  He’d been given a new lease on life, a second chance at the future he’d promised the woman in his arms, and he’d become best mates with the Crocodile before he’d squander it.

Emma stirred in his arms, sighing contentedly.  He leaned down and kissed her forehead as her eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” she said with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning yourself, my love,” he answered.

Emma leaned up on one elbow and kissed him softly.  “I don’t think I’ve slept that well since before I took on the darkness.”

“Good.  I suppose we should be up and about.  Now that he’s found his true love, I’d wager Hercules will be spoiling to plan the next phase of our plan.”

Emma groaned softly and fell back on the pillow on her side of the bed.  “Do we really have to get up?  It _can’t_ be that late!”

Killian chuckled.  “It’s well-night noon.  We’ve slept half the day away.”

Emma burrowed deeper into the covers.  “I can live with that.”

After they’d rescued Megara, they’d returned to the sitting room and the celebratory mood had continued, but eventually they’d all nearly dropped with fatigue.  Killian had offered his guests their pick of his bedrooms then taken Emma’s hand and led her to his own bed.

To Dave’s credit, he hadn’t so much as shot Killian a dirty look at the arrangement.  Not that any activities that would elicit fatherly disapproval had taken place.  Both he and Emma were far too tired after their long day to do any more than turn down the bedsheets and fall into them fully clothed.

Even had it not been for the exhaustion, Killian knew nothing would have happened in this bed.  His first time with Emma wasn’t going to be in the Underworld.  She deserved far, far better than that!

“Hello, earth to Killian,” Emma said with a teasing smile, waving her hand in front of his face.  “I think I lost you there for a moment.  What were you thinking about so intently?”

He shot her a wicked grin, one eyebrow raising.  I was thinking of activities we might do in our own bed when we return home, Swan.”

Emma colored prettily.  “Sounds like a pleasant thing to think about.”

He leaned in and kissed her soundly.  “It was indeed.”

There was a quick rap on the door.

“Mom!  Killian!  Are you guys _ever_ getting up?” Henry asked from the other side of the bedroom door.  “We’ve been waiting for you _forever_.”

Emma groaned.  “When we get home, we’re totally locking ourselves in our house and putting a protection spell around it and not coming out for a week for anything short of the apocalypse.”

Killian grinned, pecked her once more on the lips, got to his feet and offered her his hand.  “As always, love, I am in full agreement.”

When they got downstairs they found everyone assembled in the sitting room.

“Well look who’s finally decided to grace us with their presence,” Regina said with a quirk of her brow.

“Cut us some slack,” Emma said with a grin.  “We did just have open heart surgery yesterday.  We needed our rest.  So what did we miss?”

“Not much,” Charming said.   “Pretty much the same things we discussed last night.  We’ve got two weeks to turn Hercules into a true hero so he’s ready to make his stand against Uncle Hades.”

“How’s that going?” Robin asked, turning to the young god.  “Did your rescue of your lady help in that endeavor at all?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hercules said, taking Meg’s hand and squeezing.  “Saving her was the right thing to do whether it helped me or not, and my heart would have allowed me to do no different.”

“So…is that a no then?” Regina asked.

Hercules shrugged.  “Truth be told, I don’t know how it could have made a difference.  I’m fully mortal now.  I’m not sure what might restore my godhood, but I doubt heroic deeds will do the trick any…”

He stopped abruptly and looked down at his forearm.  “What the hell…”

“What is it?” Henry asked, coming up and looking down.  “Wait..is your birthmark starting to _glow_?”

“This…is impossible,” Hercules said, looking wide-eyed.  “My birthmark is my barometer, so to speak.  It showed how much divinity I had restored.  It’s been completely dark ever since I drank the potion of mortality Hades gave me.”

Sitting beside him, Megara smirked.  “Turns out there’s a reason for that, big guy.”

He shot her a curious glance.

“Turns out I decided that what Hades doesn’t know can’t hurt me,” Meg said.  “It took me all of a day of knowing you to realize I didn’t have the heart to screw you over the way Hades wanted me to.  Hades had been really, _really_ insistent that you drink the whole thing…every last drop, so I figured that must be key to his plans to destroy you.”

“What did you do?” Henry asked.  “Did you switch out the potions?”

“No,” Meg said with a wave of her hand.  “Rookie mistake.  Hades had to _think_ I’d done everything exactly as he demanded, so Hercules did have to take the potion.  What I conveniently forgot to tell Hades, though, was that when we stopped to make camp, I pulled out the vial, took out the stopper, and poured two drops onto the ground.  I’d say, Hercules, that was enough to keep you from turning completely mortal.”

“And if he’s still partially a god,” Snow White said, “that means your original plan should work.  If you prove yourself a _true_ hero, you’ll regain your god status!”

Hercules, for his part, had watched Meg with wonder in his eyes as she explained her ruse.  Suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed her soundly.  “I love you,” he said in an awed voice.  “You’re brilliant!  Utterly magnificent.”

Meg glanced aside and brushed at her skirt.  “If I was all of those things I never would have agreed to Hades’ demands in the first place.”

“He left you no choice, my love,” Hercules insisted.  “Besides, you’re hardly the only one at fault.  It was because of _my_ mistake that you ended up here in the Underworld.”

“No!” Meg said, turning back toward him and taking both his hands in hers.  “That was _not_ your fault.  I blame Hades and Hades alone for being a world class bastard.”

“That he may be, but my actions didn’t help matters.  If I’d been smarter, stronger…”

“Not to cut this apology tour short,” Regina drawled, “but maybe these discussions can wait for later…like, you know after we’ve defeated said world class bastard?”

“Right,” Hercules said, turning back toward the group.  “So all I have to do, apparently, is perform acts of heroics and my level of god-hood will increase.”

“Any ideas how to do that?” Emma asked.

Across the room, Snow White gasped.  “I think I might have one!”

“What’s that, mom?”

“Well, yesterday while we were waiting for you and Killian to come down after your heart split, it occurred to us that your True Love’s Kiss had likely broken the memory curse on all of the Underworld.”

Beside her, David smiled.  “So, there’s an entire _realm_ of people here who have unfinished business to attend to before they can move to their ultimate destination.”

“And maybe,” Mary Margaret continued, “if we help these people make their way to Elysium, that will buy us some hero points for Hercules!”

“That’s…” Regina said, “that’s actually a very good idea.  It’s sure to up Hercules’s hero tally, but more than that, it could be good for all of us.  All of us have people who are here because of us…me probably more than anyone.  Maybe…maybe in some small way, by helping people get to their eternal reward, I could make amends for some of the horrible things I did.”

Robin put an arm around her shoulders and held her close.  “You are no longer the woman who committed those crimes,” he said firmly, “but if it will be healing for you, I’ll do my best to help you with your task.”

She smiled gratefully up at him.

“You know Regina,” Snow White said slowly, “what I did to your mother…I still live with the guilt every day.  Maybe if I were to talk to her, apologize, help her to move on…”

She was cut off by a chorus of “No!”s from every corner of the room.

“Mom, that’s _crazy_!” Emma said finally.  “Cora is Hades’ _wife_.  She’s one of the nastiest witches we’ve ever encountered.  Walking up to her and saying ‘I’m sorry I killed you’ would probably do nothing but get you killed.  Immediately.”

“I must agree with Swan,” Killian said.  “I’ve found in my dealings with Cora that she doesn’t forgive and she doesn’t forget.  Save your breath, my lady.  You’d only be causing yourself pain.”

“Yeah, Grandma,” Henry said.  “Probably the best way you could help Cora now would be to defeat her.”

“On the other hand…” Robin said slowly, “perhaps the Lady Snow is onto something.”

All eyes swiveled toward the former thief. 

“Not in the way originally proposed, of course,” Robin amended, “but it could be quite useful to do a bit of surveillance, learn as much as we can of our enemies’ plans.  Perhaps Snow White and David might act as spies?”

“How do you propose we do that?” David asked.  “Doubt we could manage to get close enough to get any _real_ information.”

“As to that,” Regina said, “I might have a solution.  Now that I have my magic back, it would be a piece of cake to cast a quick invisibility spell over you.  It wouldn’t be fool-proof, particularly if you got too close to Rumple or Hades, but it should be good enough to get you in the door if you’re careful.”

“I like it!” Snow said.  “So David and I are on surveillance and Regina, Robin, Hercules and Meg will work on freeing trapped souls.  That leaves Emma, Killian and Henry.”

Killian glanced aside and scratched behind his ear.  “I…I was hoping I might see…I don’t know if he’s even here, perhaps he moved on right away, but if I could see Liam once more…And perhaps…Milah as well?”

Emma turned toward him, excitedly.  “Oh, Killian!  He is!  He is here!  We found him the day after we got here.  He didn’t know who he was, of course, but he remembered the ring.”

“Yeah!” Henry said, “and we found Grandma Milah too!  If you want we can go talk to them.  Maybe, maybe you could help them to move on.”

Killian smiled gently, the skin beside his eyes crinkling with the motion.  “Lad…I’d like nothing more.”

“Great,” Emma said, lacing her fingers with Killian’s.  “So we’ll go find Liam and Milah.  Looks like everyone has their plans for the day.  Meet back here later tonight!”

_Notes:_

_\--Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up!  I’ve been under the weather, and I just couldn’t bring myself to write (seriously.  Tuesday I got a grand total of 2 words written!)_

_\--Btw, I did plan what I was going to do with this chapter before 5x12!  The gang in my story was always going to try to free souls from the Underworld!_

_\--Up next: Back in time, Meg can’t take it anymore.  She goes to Hades and tells him the deal is off.  She won’t hurt Hercules.  Hades is initially upset, but eventually comes up with an idea about how he can use this new situation to his advantage.  In the present, Emma, Killian and Henry make their first stop—to visit Milah._

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

_Enchanted Forest, a few years before the original Dark Curse_

Megara settled in for the night, tossing and turning, searching in vain for anything remotely resembling a comfortable position. Why was the ground so hard?  What she wouldn’t give for a nice, plush feather bed.  Maybe if she tried really hard, she could convince herself that Hercules’ cloak was a nice, fluffy pillow.  The howling wind in the trees above them was actually a lullaby.  Maybe if she used her imagination she could actually get some sleep.

Meg turned over once more, looked past the fire and at the peacefully sleeping form of the god on the other side. Who was she kidding?  The conditions might be less than ideal, but she’d always been capable of nodding off the second she laid down.  It wasn’t the less-than-comfortable conditions that was causing her insomnia.  It was the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She and Hercules had been travelling for two days now, and with every moment, it became clearer that Hercules was actually a wonderful man. Meg was steadily, with every passing hour, becoming fonder and fonder of him.  Truth be told, she was a whisper’s breath away from falling in love with him.

The thought of hurting him, betraying him was almost a physical ache. _How_ in any realm was she to go through with this?

Meg closed her eyes, fondly remembered the joy and affection in his eyes as he’d talked to her earlier that day. How was she to deal with it when the light went out of those eyes?  When he no longer looked at her like she hung the stars, but rather like she was some kind of ugly, poisonous insect that he was well rid of?

How was she to forgive herself when he lost his family, his heritage, his very identity? And really, what _was_ Hades’ plan with him?  Was it worse than merely neutralizing his rival’s power?  Did Hades have plans to harm him—kill him as soon as his last bit of immortality was removed?

The chill that raced over Meg had nothing to do with the night breeze. If he died because of her…

Meg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Well, she didn’t have to worry about that last one, did she?  She’d taken care of that worry the other day when she’d dumped those two drops of potion on the ground.  Even if (no _when_!) she went through with this, all would not be lost.  He’d still have a tiny bit of his godhood.  Surely that would be enough to protect him from Hades doing him physical harm, wouldn’t it?

Half an hour later, Meg finally sighed loudly and sat up, leaning against the tree at her back. It was no use.  She _couldn’t_ do this.  She’d tried to muscle through the guilt and pain, but it was no good.  Hercules did _not_ deserve what Hades had in store for him—whatever that was—and Meg could not be the one to royally screw him over.

So what now? Should she just dump the damn human potion on the ground?  Throw the vial away?  Tell Hercules what was going on?  Double cross Hades?

It took only a moment to reject all of those options. Hades may be ridiculous in a lot of ways, but he was more than a formidable foe.  Double crossing him would be utter disaster.  Chances are if she just tossed the potion, he’d find out and cause even _worse_ problems for her and Hercules.  (Although…what exactly is worse than having your soul held for all eternity by the devil, Meg didn’t know.)

Nope, the direct route would definitely be best.

She thought for a moment, her fingers idly tapping against her skirt. If she wasn’t mistaken they were actually only a quarter mile or so from the temple of the gods.  Maybe she’d be best off contacting Hades there?  It had worked for her (in a matter of speaking) when it came to saving Michael.  Maybe it would work again.

Meg looked up at the stars, the position of the moon. It was still the middle of the night, dawn several hours away.  Glancing over at Hercules, sleeping deeply with a small smile on his face, she nodded.  She could get to the temple and back before he woke.

And when he did wake up…what then? The thought of leaving him, never seeing him again, was already beginning to feel like a physical ache in her chest, but she couldn’t very well continue with the ruse.  She had no family that needed saving from a dragon.  How was she to proceed when the subterfuge was gone?

Meg got to her feet and set her face in a grim line. Well, she’d deal with that later.  One thing at a time.  First thing she had to do was break the deal with Hades.  When that was done…she’d figure out something.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Hey Hades!” Pain said, peeking his ugly head into Hades’ study. “Call for you on your private god-line!”

Hades looked up and then rubbed at his temples, willing the headache to recede. Just as well he got interrupted, he was starting to get frustrated out of his _mind_.

He’d been bored, nothing appealing, so he’d made a trip to the chipper blonde he’d set up as his Underbrooke event planner.

“So what’s a guy to do around here, toots?” he’d ask, lounging negligently in the chair before her desk.

He glanced behind her at the brightly-colored banner of a couple with big smiles, clearly having the time of their lives. The company’s logo sat proudly at the top, surrounded by the tagline “Underbrooke: Have a Hell of a Good Time.”

“You’ve got a whole afterlife of possibilities laid out for you, my lord,” the blonde said. “What do you feel like doing?”

Hades sighed deeply. “If I _knew_ what I wanted to do, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

She’d listed off several possibilities, her chipper grin falling a little more as he met each new idea with a scowl and an eye roll.

The fact was…there was just nothing _going on_ around here.  Hadn’t been a war topside for decades, not a real one.  No fascinating new souls.  No excitement.  There hadn’t even been any _problems_ lately.  He was bored as hell.

Finally, in the end, she’d thrown up her hands, passed him a book of crossword puzzles and shooed her from her office.

So here he sat, getting more and more frustrated by the moment because his current crossword puzzle—on creative methods of torture—was kicking his blue-haired butt. How the hell was it that he, the god of the dead, could only think of five different methods of torturing people?  He was losing his touch, and no mistake.

And so it was when Pain showed up, Hades found himself saying something he didn’t think he would ever say. “Thanks for stopping by to tell me.  Definitely glad to see you.”

Pain did a double take. “Me?  You’re…you’re happy to see me?”

The little guy did an annoying jig, reminding Hades of nothing so much as an eager, yappy little puppy. He scowled.  “Yeah, well don’t get used to it.  Probably a onetime thing.”

“Of course, of course,” Pain said with a broad smile. “So…you gonna go answer your phone?”

Hades got to his feet and waved the little man away. “Yeah, heading over now.  Any idea who’s calling?”

“Yeah!” Panic said, appearing next to his friend. “It’s that Meg lady.  You know the one that’s supposed to take care of Hercules for you.”

Hades perked up at the information. “Really?  You think she’s succeeded at her mission already?  That’s impressive!  Never would have believed it.”

Pain shrugged. “Who knows?  She seems pretty agitated though.”

Hades shrugged. “Yeah, well, she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the arrangement.  Probably feels _guilty_ or some such ridiculous emotion.”

“I’m not so sure, boss,” Panic said. “She’s there at the temple muttering something about ‘I can’t do it; I just can’t do it’.”

A chill descended on Hades. He didn’t like the sound of that.  “And you didn’t think that was important information to let me know?”

Pain shrugged. “Well, I mean, you seemed so happy and excited; didn’t want to ruin it.”

Hades growled. “Next time _tell me when you have information_!  If that little minx thinks she can double cross me…”

Well, there was nothing for it. Best see what Meg had to say for herself.  If she was thinking about going back on the deal he would…he would…well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but it definitely wasn’t going to be pleasant for her.

Hades made his way to the “god” phone booth he had set up just outside his living room. Stepping inside, he sat in the comfortable chair he’d had installed and then pressed the “video chat” button.

“This is Hades, god of the dead. How can I help you?” he said automatically.

Meg stood before him, pacing in an agitated manner. She jumped at the sound of his voice, and then narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.  “You could give me my soul back.”

Hades rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’ve talked about that,” he said.  “Your soul’s mine fair and square, lady…unless, of course you have news for me.  You here to tell me you finished your part of our little deal?”

Meg looked away, clearly agitated, and Hades heart sank. This was not going to be good.  At all.

“Look,” she said, finally looking back at him. “Here’s the thing.  The deal’s off.  I can’t do it.”

Hades felt his hair flame and took a sadistic pleasure in the sudden flash of fear the action brought to Meg’s eyes. “Are you really telling me, _me_ that you want to welch on our deal?”

She looked intimidated for all of a heartbeat and then he saw the sheer stubbornness and determination come into her eyes. “Yeah.  That’s _exactly_ what I’m telling you.”

“You wanna give me a reason?” he thundered. “I mean other than the fact that you’ve obviously gotten hit with the stupid stick.  Think Meg! _Think_!  This is the solution to all your problems!  You do this one teeny, tiny thing for me, you get back your soul.  You’re your own woman again.  You don’t owe anyone.  What possible reason could you have to throw all of that away?”

“I know exactly what I stand to lose!” she yelled, startling him by getting right in his face (well, where his face would have been if he was more than just a hologram to her). “I’ve tried.  You have no _idea_ how much I’ve tried, but _I just can’t do it_!  Hercules…well, he’s a great guy.  He’s strong and kind and funny and desperate to help people.  I _can’t_ take that away from him.”

Hades groaned to himself. _Wonderful._ The little tarte was _in love_ with him.  He got up and began pacing his phone booth (not an easy endeavor). 

Love was the bane of his existence. How many times had love ripped a victory away from him?  How many times had a person been on the brink of a truly terrible deed, only to turn away from it because of love?  How many times had a person heroically saved those who should rightfully belong to him now because of love?  How many times had people reconciled—and finished their business—before their deaths because of love.

And no matter what he tried, he could _never_ stamp it out; not when it was _real_.  Not when it was _true_.  Love was the strongest force in any of the lands, and Hades knew very well that nothing could stamp it out—not when the parties who loved truly believed in it.

If Megara had fallen in love with Hercules, Hades was well and truly screwed. There would be no forcing her to do his bidding.  Hades only hope was that he caught the love in time before it became fully entrenched.

“Well,” Meg said irritably, “say something!”

“You are a damn fool,” Hades lamented, shaking his head. “You really think he cares about you?  That you _mean_ something to him?  Idiot!  You’re just a means to an end to him!  He’s _using_ you!  Meg, open your eyes!  He’s trying to become a hero for his own selfish agenda; just because he’s trying to destroy me.  Me!  His kind, loving uncle.  Who _does_ that?  Trust me, Meg; the minute he gets what he wants from you he’ll walk away…just like your other man.  What was his name?  Michael? _Please_ tell me you’re smarter than that!”

Hades knew before he even finished his tirade that it was no good. The stubborn, determined look never faded from her eyes.  Not a hint of doubt entered her expression.  Whether she knew it or not, this woman had already reached the point of no return.  She loved Hercules and there was nothing he was going to be able to do to change that.

_Damn it_!

“I don’t care,” Meg said through gritted teeth. “He can do what he wants to me—not that I think he will—but he can.  Do what you want to me, but I am _not_ betraying him!”

Hades swore long and fluently. Why?  Why couldn’t _anything_ work out?

But slowly, the anger faded as a new idea took route. Maybe Meg wasn’t going to help him willingly (and _wittingly_ ), but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be of use.

Love had kicked his ass for more years (decades, centuries) than he could count. It was long past time he returned the favor.  Hades grinned nastily as the idea blossomed in his mind.  Love thought it was going to get the best of him again?  Not gonna happen!  This time, Hades was going to use love to his own advantage.

Composing himself, he turned back toward her. “Fine.  Your loss.”

Meg narrowed her eyes. “Just like that?  No threats?  No tantrums?  No pleading?”

“Nope, none of the above,” Hades said with a toothy grin. “You want to be stupid?  No skin off my nose.  Go ahead.  Go off and be an idiot.  I’ll find some other way to put my plan in motion.”

She watched him closely for another minute or two and then shrugged. “Um…thank you?  I guess I’ll be going then…”

“Yeah, you do that!” He said genially. “Go enjoy your time with your Hercules...”

She turned and walked slowly away.

“…while you still can,” Hades added as soon as she was far enough away the sound would no longer carry.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Plans for the day completed, the rest of the group dispersed quickly. Soon only Emma, Killian and Henry were left at the house by the sea.  Henry disappeared up the stairs, hoping to take a shower and get ready for the day when he’d _really_ get to meet “Grandma Milah” and “Uncle Liam”.

Emma sat beside Killian on the loveseat and immediately reached for his hand. She could sense that something was troubling him, despite all the victories they’d celebrated in the last day or two.  They sat in silence for several moments, Killian looking aside, picking at loose threads on the sofa with his hook, Emma periodically tossing him worried glances.

Finally the tense silence became too much.

“Alright, out with it,” she said.

He shot her a surprised look. “Out with what, love?”

“Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

He gave her a quick smile that he clearly wanted to appear sincere. “Nothing in the least, Swan.  All is well now that we’re reunited and are well on our way to getting home.”

Emma shook her head and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Uh-uh.  We share a heart now; no way you can get out of it that easily.  I _know_ something’s bothering you; I can feel it too.”

“Fascinating how this heart sharing works, isn’t it love?” he asked, contemplatively. “The connection between us…it was always there; from the moment you pulled me from a pile of corpses it was there.  But now, literally being the other half of my heart…I feel as though I know and understand you on a level I never did before.”

Emma smiled, feeling the love well up within—whether it was strictly hers, or a combination of the both of theirs she neither knew nor particularly cared. “Yeah,” she agreed.  “It’s…it goes beyond words.  Doubt anyone beyond my parents could truly understand it.”

“Aye, that’s probably so.”

Emma sighed again. “Look…if you don’t want to tell me now fine.  You can tell me on your own time, but I _know_ something is bothering you.  Won’t you let me in?  Maybe talking it out would help.”

He looked at her for long moments and then sighed, pulling his hand away for a moment so he could rake it through his shaggy hair. “It’s…it’s just a bit awkward, aye?” he finally said, refusing to look at her.  “Going to see Milah, I mean.  I love you with every beat of our shared heart, but…but there’s a part of me that will always love her as well.  I wish to see her, to assure myself she’s truly alright, to find a way to send her on to Elysium.  But I don’t wish to hurt you…”

Emma stopped him with a finger to his lips. “Killian, she was an important part of your life.  A desperately important part of your life.  I know how deeply, how completely you love.  What kind of a person would I be if I begrudged you an opportunity to get closure, to say goodbye to someone who meant so much to you?  I’m _happy_ for you.  I’m glad you get this chance for healing.”

He looked down at her in awe. “You truly mean that?”

“Of course!” Emma said. “And yeah, it might be a little…awkward, especially when you think of all the messed up family connections, but hey.  At least it’ll keep things interesting.”

A slow smile slid across his face, and he reached up to cup her cheek. “You are an amazing woman, Emma Swan, and I love you.”

Slowly, tenderly, he leaned down and kissed her. She sighed into the embrace, scooting closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.  After the last few weeks, she’d never, never take these little moments, these tender embraces for granted again.  She’d gladly remain here in his arms for the next decade straight, if she was able.

A loud, put-upon adolescent sigh broke them apart a moment later. “Guys, do you have to do that _all the time_ now?  I mean I’m glad you’re back together and everything, but...” Henry rolled his eyes dramatically.

Killian pulled back, grinning, still resting in the circle of Emma’s embrace. “I shall remind you of this, lad, when you find your own true love one day and you want nothing in the world more than to be as close to her as you are physically able.”

“Doubt it,” Henry said skeptically.

Emma laughed. “We’ll try to control ourselves kid.  So, everybody ready to go have a few reunions?”

Killian got to his feet and gallantly offered her his hand. “Lead the way, Swan.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Killian looked around with interest as he, Emma and the lad walked the streets of Underbrooke. It was strange, this feeling within.  His head was filled with a strange mix of false memories and real ones.  He supposed this must be how all the rest had felt when the original Dark Curse broke.

Rather disorienting, to be sure.

They’d approached the town cautiously, unaware what state they’d find it in now that all the residents were back in full possession of their memories. Killian had half expected the streets to be a chaos of people running around, panicking, looking for loved ones, but at first glance everything appeared rather normal.

Or normal for Underbrooke, at least. The town’s level of disrepair was more than a little jarring in comparison to its living counterpart.

From time to time residents, ranging in emotion from dazed to joyful to incensed walked by. It appeared a small mob was forming near what would be Granny’s topside.  From what Killian could hear, it sounded like the leader was attempting to incite the crowd to march against Hades in retaliation for stealing their memories and their hope of moving on.

A futile endeavor that, no doubt. What hope would a small band of magic-less mortals have against a god?

“Maybe we should go do something…” Emma said, looking worriedly over at the group.

Killian shook his head. “Best not to get in the middle of it, love,” he said. “As filled with righteous indignation as they currently are, I’m quite sure any such attempt would only lead to them turning on us as well.”

“I guess…” Emma said slowly. “Maybe we can, I don’t know, help them after they have a chance to calm down?”

“Perhaps so,” Killian said, “but for now, we’d best continue on our way.”

Henry led the way, giving the agitated crowd a wide berth. He chattered excitedly, evidently thrilled at the prospect of meeting some of his long-lost relatives.

They continued on for a good half-mile and then Henry picked up the pace. “Come on guys!  The schools just up ahead.  We’ll be there any moment.”

And so they were. The sun broke free of the overhead clouds just as the Underbrooke Elementary came into view.  Killian looked around, head swiveling from side to side, but it was Emma who saw her first.

“Look Killian, there she is,” Emma said, pointing forward. “At the crosswalk.”

Killian looked in the direction Emma pointed, and he felt the tears come to his eyes. She looked different—she wore the attire of this realm, her hair pulled up into a pony tail—but it was no doubt his Milah.

A wash of emotion flowed over him—love, loss, gratitude, pain. It had been years, centuries, and the pain of her loss had faded significantly—particularly after he found Emma—but it had never truly healed.  It was like an infected wound; it had festered for centuries, never truly healing.  Now—now, perhaps he could finally find the peace he’d sought.

Emma squeezed his arm. “Go on,” she whispered.  “Go to her.”

He gave her a quick, hard kiss, and then moved forward. “Milah?” he said through a suddenly tight throat.

She looked up quickly at the sound of his voice, and slowly a wide, joyous smile broke across her face. Setting her traffic sign aside, she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, breathing his name.

For long moments they clung to each other, speaking centuries of emotions through the hug. Finally she pulled back, grinning.  “Look at you!  It sounds weird to say it considering where we are, but you look good!”

He chuckled. “As do you, love.  For a woman who’s been dead for centuries you’re positively glowing.”

She laughed. “So…looks like the reclusive Colin Delamer got his memories back…and looks like the two of us were right about things being weird around here.”

Killian’s eyes widened in surprise. In the bustle of all that had happened, he’d forgotten his visit from ‘Rachel’ a few days ago.  “Bloody hell love, that was you…and me.”

Milah laughed again. “Yeah, it was us.  Did…did you ever find the blonde woman who was looking for you?”

Killian looked back at Emma and Henry, who’d hung back, no doubt wishing to give them privacy. He gestured, and Emma stepped forward, taking his hand. “As a matter of fact, I did.  Not only did she find me, but it was our kiss that broke the curse.”

Emma looked over at the other woman, smiling tentatively. “Hi again.  I’m Emma Swan.”

Milah looked surprised for a moment and then stepped forward and put out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Emma Swan.  So you’re Killian’s true love?”

Emma took the other woman’s hand awkwardly, glancing aside. “Yeah…yeah I guess I am.  I’m sorry.  I know this is weird…”

Milah smiled. “It doesn’t have to be.”  She glanced over at Killian, and his heart warmed at the warm, friendly look she gave him.  “I…I know it’s been a long time, centuries apparently, since we were together.  Of course Killian’s moved on.  I’m pleased to know he’s happy; that he’s found someone to love him as deeply as you obviously do.”

Killian’s heart swelled…and then sunk as a new thought occurred to him. “Milah, love,” he said through a suddenly tight throat.  “You’re here, here in the Underworld.”

She shot him a confused look. “Yes…”

“That means you’ve unfinished business to attend to,” Killian continued. “Is it…is it my fault?  Is it my fault you’re here?  Are you trapped in this bloody awful place because I failed…I failed to avenge you?  Did _my_ moving on ensure you never can?”

Milah stepped forward, shaking her head definitively. She raised a hand, cupping Killian’s cheek.  “That’s never what I wanted.  I wanted you to be happy; I didn’t want all the pain, all the anger on my behalf.  Killian I _love_ you!  I want you to have your heart’s desire.  What happened….what Rumple did to me was terrible, but I would _never_ want it to destroy your life as well as mine.”

Killian looked at her in wonder. “Truly, love?”

Milah stepped forward, took Killian’s hand and put it in Emma’s. “Truly, Killian.  You’ve found your happy ending.  Follow it; be happy.  That will be enough closure for me.”

There was silence for many moments, Killian too overwhelmed to speak, but eventually it was Henry who spoke up.

“So, Grandma,” he said, “if Killian wasn’t your unfinished business, what is?”

The three adults turned startled eyes to Henry. In truth, Killian had forgotten the lad was even there in the emotion of the moment.

“Grandma?” Milah said, brow furrowed.

Emma stepped forward. “Yeah…this is Henry.  My son and…your grandson.”

Milah looked confused for another moment and then her eyes widened. “Bae?  You and Bae…?”

Emma grimaced. “This is where the really awkward part comes in.  Yeah, I knew him as Neal, but long ago he and I…were together.  Henry is our son.”

It would appear the revelation had floored Milah, not that Killian could blame her. What a tangled, tangled family tree Swan’s lad had!  Finally, Milah looked down at Henry, gentle smile draping her face.  “You…you look like him.”

“You think so?” Henry asked with a grin.

“Yes; very much.”

“Cool!” Henry said. “I didn’t get to know him for very long, but I always wanted to get to know him better.”

Milah looked from Emma to Killian and then back. “To be honest…it’s Bae that’s my unfinished business.  Leaving him, abandoning him the way I did, was the greatest regret of my life.  If I could just know he’s okay, that he forgives me…”

Emma stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Milah’s arm. “He did and he does.”

“Are you sure?”

Emma smiled. “Yeah.  You know how I know?  He’s not here; he doesn’t _have_ any unfinished business.  If he still held anger against his mother or unforgiveness toward her, he’d be here in this literal hell-hole right now.  He’s not, and that tells me all I need to know.”

Tears came to Milah’s eyes. “It’s all I ever wanted.  If I could just have one moment with him; one moment to apologize, to try to make it right…”

Killian stepped forward and hugged her once more. “He’s waiting for you in Elysium.  Perhaps if you were to let go of the pain, the crippling guilt you could see that forgiveness is possible for anyone.  Gods know I’ve done terrible, seemingly unforgivable things, but I have to believe forgiveness, a chance at grace is possible.  If not, we’re rather all doomed, aye?”

Henry stepped forward as well. “They’re right, Grandma.  I bet if you can see yourself as worthy of forgiveness you can move on!”

Killian knew quite well the power of Henry’s belief. How could one hold out against such faith?  He watched with a gentle smile as the emotions passed across Milah’s face—skepticism, guilt, acceptance, joy.

Slowly she smiled as the tears began streaming down her face. “I…I believe,” she said.  “I’ll see Bae again, and I’ll get a chance at making things right with him.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a shimmering door, bathed in light appeared in the road before them. Emma stepped up to Killian and wrapped him in her arms, sensing his need for her strength, her comfort.

“It’s so beautiful…” Milah said, looking through the doorway to a sight only she could see. She took one step through and then paused, turning back toward Killian and Henry and Emma.  “Thank you,” she breathed before turning once again and rushing toward the light.

When she’d crossed the threshold, the door gradually faded from existence. The last thing they heard before the light faded was a joyous male voice.  “Mama?  Mama, is that you?”

 

_Notes:_

_\--I really liked last Sunday’s episode where we saw Milah again! She’s never been my favorite character, but I really liked what we saw of her in 5x14!  The one thing I_ didn’t _like was the fact that Rumple basically killed her again and deprived her of the possibility to move on. That was just heartbreaking…so I decided to fix it. :-)_

_\--Sorry it’s once again taken me forever to update. Truth be told, I’ve been having a pretty tough time of it lately.  My health still isn’t good, and my computer is also away at the shop, the result being—writing has been like pulling teeth.  I’m going to do my very best to write the next chapter—about Liam—before Sunday’s episode, but no promises!_

_\--Up next: Back in time, Hades puts his newest plot to use Meg to get to Hercules into action. In the present time period, CS and Henry make their next stop—to the docks so that Killian can finally be reunited with his beloved brother._


	22. Chapter 22--Sneak Peek

**Chapter 22 Sneak Peek:**

_Underworld, present day_

Emma felt the tension, the excitement emanating from Killian the closer they came to the docks.  She stole a quick glance at him as they continued, and the sight nearly brought tears to her eyes.  She’d never seen him look so young, so happy, so carefree.  He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, a kid who was about to receive the best gift of his life.

She couldn’t even imagine.

They’d talked about Liam once or twice, but the conversations were always short, clipped.  It was as though Killian _wanted_ to open up to her but couldn’t, as though the pain of Liam’s death was still too fresh to speak of even centuries later.

Not really surprising.  Liam Jones was Killian’s other true love, his brother, his role model, his hero, in many ways his father.  To have someone that important suddenly ripped away…she couldn’t even imagine.

At the brisk pace Killian was taking (she doubted he realized it but he was more or less dragging her along), it took only minutes to reach the docks.  Things seemed calmer here than they’d been elsewhere in the town.  Whether it was due to the calming influence Killian insisted the sea had on all sailors or whether it was due to the calmer nature of Underbrooke’s maritime population, Emma didn’t know, but she appreciated it.  It would be much easier to find Liam in a place that wasn’t filled with pandemonium.

Killian spotted him first.  He stopped still, his eyes going wide as saucers.  “Liam” he breathed.

It was a bare whisper, so quiet even Emma struggled to hear it, but somehow the elder Jones brother must have sensed Killian’s presence.  No sooner had the name left Killian’s lips but Liam’s head jerked up and he looked right at them.

For a moment the two brothers were frozen in place, merely looking at each other, drinking each other in, and then they moved forward all at once, faces wreathed in smiles, tears in their eyes. 

Killian stopped a foot away from Liam.  His mouth worked, but no sound came out, the emotion clearly overwhelming.  It was Liam who spoke first.  “It’s been a long time, little brother.”

Killian chuckled.  “I think you mean ‘younger’ brother, Liam.”

Liam laughed for a moment, and then Killian launched himself into his brother’s arms, burying his face in the taller man’s neck, holding on for all he was worth.  Liam, for his part held his brother just as tightly.

Emma let the tears flow freely as she watched yet another piece of her True Love’s broken heart slowly mend.

_Notes:_

_\--Okay, so I didn’t get the chapter written, but I didn’t want to leave you with nothing.  So here you go, a sneak peek for chapter 22!_

_\--HIATUS ANNOUNCEMENT:  The main reason for posting this sneak peek was to let you know that I’m going to be out of town (actually out of the country) for the next two weeks.  I’m not bringing my computer with me, so I won’t be able to update any of my stories during that time, but I’m hoping to have some good, quality long-hand writing time on the flights and train rides.  Hopefully I’ll have a couple (or more?) chapters to post when I get home next weekend!_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22

_The Enchanted Forest, a few years before the first dark curse_

When Hercules awoke, he was alone. A chill came over him that had nothing to do with the fact that the fire had burned down to embers. Meg was in trouble; he could sense it.

He got quickly to his feet, his heart racing, his wild eyes going every direction. There was no point in denying why he was so concerned. He was in love with her. They’d only known each other a few days, but it was enough. He remembered his foster mother telling him that when love is true, you sense it right away. Though

it may take time for the love to make itself known in your heart, you feel an instant connection as soon as you meet your beloved.

So it was with Meg. Quite simply, she was the one for him, the only one. Should it happen that her feelings did not match his—or worse, should something happen to her—he would be alone for the rest of his days.

Because now that he’d tasted True Love, no ordinary love could ever satisfy again.

Hercules was on the point of calling out for her, the feeling of her being in danger growing by the second, when he heard the rustling of nearby fallen leaves, the breaking of a stray twig.

Someone was coming.

Hercules took up a defensive posture, his large hands balled into fists, his feet shoulder-length apart, ready to defend himself should it be necessary.

Suddenly, Meg reappeared in the clearing, looking none the worse for wear, save for a troubled look in her eyes. Hercules breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, a look of chagrin covering her face. “I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you.”

A wave of tenderness ingulfed him. This woman was so strong, so tough, but beneath it all beat a soft heart, one he’d protect with his life if need be.

Despite seeing her alive and well before him, the feeling of unease, the feeling that Meg was in imminent and mortal danger, was as strong as ever. He found it more than a little troubling.

“No,” he said finally, realizing he’d yet to answer her question. “You didn’t wake me, but I was concerned when I woke to find you gone.”

A defensive look came into her eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me; I can take care of myself.”

He smiled. There was the feisty woman he’d fallen in love with. “Oh, I know that quite well, my lady, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that you are in danger. It concerns me more than I can say.”

Her eyes softened and then shifted to the side. “I…I merely needed a moment of privacy.”

There was more to the story, something she wasn’t telling him, he was sure of it. But he was not her guardian, her keeper. If she wished to keep her secrets, it wasn’t his place to ferret them out. He merely nodded. “Perhaps we might make a pact to inform each other of our whereabouts in the future. The closer we come to the lair of the dragon, the more dangerous it is for one to wander off alone.”

After a moment, she nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Hercules went toward the fire, burying the remaining embers until he was sure they were out, then he turned back toward her. “It’s still early yet; the sun’s only beginning to come up, but maybe since we’re both up, we should go ahead and continue our journey.”

She nodded, and they began walking. A moment later, Hercules felt her hand take his, their fingers intertwining. He sucked in a quick breath, feeling warmth travel from their joined hands all the way to his heart.

“I…I’m sorry,” she stammered, attempting to pull her hand back. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…the thought of you concerned about me…I don’t think anyone’s every been concerned about me before.”

He curled his fingers more firmly in place, keeping her hand in his. “Don’t apologize,” he said in a low voice, “I quite like holding your hand. And as for being concerned about you, how could I not? I’m beginning to care for you more than I’ve ever cared for any woman.”

She didn’t answer—at least not in words, and Hercules felt his heart drop at the thought he’d so thoroughly misread her feelings.

Then she stepped before him, and the look in her eyes took his breath away. Slowly, she brought her free hand up and curled it around his neck. Applying gentle pressure, she brought his head down to hers. He closed his eyes and breathed her name just before their lips met.

It was a slow kiss, gentle and sweet. As it continued and Hercules’s mouth began to move over hers, he felt a piece of his heart—a piece he didn’t even realize he was missing—click into place.

After several moments, Meg pulled away, and it took some time for Hercules to open his eyes, wishing nothing more than to savor the moment between them. Finally, open them he did, and he smiled down at her.

But she wasn’t smiling, she was looking aside, her body tense.

“Meg,” he said slowly, “is something the matter? Was that…not to your liking?”

She brought her eyes quickly to his, surprise evident in their depths. “No!” she said. “It’s not that. The kiss was wonderful, magical. It’s just…before this goes any farther, there’s something I have to tell you. Just…just promise you won’t hate me when you hear what I have to say. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t stand the thought of you hating me.”

Hercules smiled gently, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. “Impossible, my love.”

She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes. Hercules wondered what could be so terrible she’d fear it would make him hate her.

But before she could tell him whatever it was that was bothering her, an unearthly screech filled the air. A moment later, a huge beast came into view. He was all black, save for his malevolent red eyes. He had huge wings like a bat and horns like a ram. All about him was an air of evil.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, as the creature moved steadily in their direction.

“Yeah…” Meg said, dread evident in her voice. “I’m guessing that’s exactly where he’s from.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Meg’s heart raced as she looked up at the hell-beast. This had to be Hades’ retribution. She should have known he wouldn’t take her failure so well!

The beast swooped down, heading straight for her. His eyes seemed to shoot flames. Instinctively she ducked, tucking her head and covering it with her arms (as though _that_ would be any defense against one of Hades’ minions.)

She expected any moment to feel its talons digging into her flesh, but it never happened. She heard a wild cry and looked up in time to see Hercules hit the beast with all his considerable might. It veered off course, shaking its mighty head as though disoriented.

The creature regained its equilibrium far more quickly than either of them would have liked and charged her again. Hercules fought him valiantly, but it was clear as the fight continued that Hercules was getting the worst of the encounter. With every blow he landed on the hell beast, he became more tired. The beast, in contrast seemed to feed on his exhaustion.

Finally the inevitable happened. Hercules swung weakly and missed, falling to the ground with his effort. Meg cried out, concerned for him even more so than she was for herself. The beast gave a mighty cry and dove for her.

It was only inches from her when suddenly Hades appeared, snapped his fingers, and the beast stopped as though turned to stone.

Hades pasted on a huge, toothy grin, walked over to Hercules and extended a hand. “Hi. Names Hades. Don’t think we’ve met. By the way, I’m your uncle. Kind of a complicated family history, with your dad being a world class son of a bitch and then me trying to kill you and everything. But what are you gonna do?”

Hercules got painfully to his feet and shot the god a malevolent glare. “I know exactly who you are. What I don’t know is what you’re doing here and why you insist on attacking the lady and me.”

Hades chuckled nastily. “Why don’t you ask your little girlfriend over there. She was in on the whole thing.”

“No!” Meg moaned, her heart dropping at the sudden look of pain and disbelief on the face of the man she loved.

“Meg,” Hercules asked softly. “What’s he talking about? Tell me he’s lying!”

“Damn you Hades!” Megara growled, turning toward him. “I told you the deal’s off! I won’t do it! I won’t betray him!”

“Yeah,” Hades said grinning nastily at her, “Here’s the thing. I’m kind of the king of deals and no one, _no one_ breaks a deal with me.”

“Would someone tell me what’s going on?” Hercules demanded.

“Please!” Meg pleaded. “Believe me Herc! Hades may have had me over a barrel and forced me to take his deal, but as soon as I got to know you, I knew I could _never_ do what he asked.”

As she spoke Hercules’ face softened the smallest amount, and Meg began to hope she could one day earn his forgiveness.

Hades stepped between them. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”

Hades lifted his hand, and the bottle of human potion flew into it. “So here’s the deal. You, Hercules, are a significant pain in my ass. There’s a prophecy about you defeating me or some such clap-trap, but we can’t have that happening, now can we? What you’ve gotta do is drink this potion, and bada-bing, bada-boom, you’re mortal again—and no longer a threat.”

Hercules stepped forward, getting right in his uncle’s face. “And just what in the name of all the gods makes you think I’d ever willingly do that?”

Hades grin broadened. “Simple. Drink the potion and your girlfriend goes free. Refuse to drink, and I have my friend Chernabog over here drag her sorry ass to hell. We’ve all seen that you simply aren’t strong enough to defeat him. So what’ll it be Wonderboy?”

“I drink this potion, and Megara goes free?” Hercules asked firmly. “I have your word on that?”

“You have my word,” Hades vowed.

“No!” Meg protested, stepping up to Hercules and taking his arm. “It’s not worth it! _I’m_ not worth it! Hades must be defeated. Don’t do this Hercules!”

He turned toward her and kissed her quick and hard. “How could I do otherwise? Nothing’s worth letting you be dragged to hell. I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

With that, he disentangled himself from her, stepped up to Hades, took the vial and drank every last drop.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

_For several moments after Milah walked through the door to Elysium, no one said a word.  They stood as though routed to the spot, looking at the place the door had been.  Finally, Emma stepped up to Killian and took his hand._

_“Killian…” she began tentatively.  “Are you…are you okay?”_

_He was silent for a moment and then turned toward her, a beatific smile on his face.  “Aye love.  Far better than okay.  Brilliant,” he said.  “I’m not sure how to describe it, but I am finally at peace.  For so long, for so many centuries, I was consumed with pain.  All I saw when I closed my eyes at night was the Crocodile crushing my Milah’s heart, the terrible pain on her face.  Now, to see her again, to bid her a proper farewell, to watch her go to a place of perfect happiness…it heals the wound within my heart.”_

_Emma smiled, disentangled her hand and reached up to wrap him in her arms.  “You got your closure.  I’m glad, Killian; I’m really glad.”_

_They remained like that for long moments, wrapped in each other’s arms, Emma’s hand cradling his head in her father’s gesture of comfort, but they were not alone.  Henry could only take so many displays of affection between his mom and her boyfriend._

_“Come on guys!” he said finally, “Let’s go see Uncle Liam!”_

_Emma felt Killian’s heartbeat pick up before he pulled away from her.  “Right you are lad.  Let’s go find my brother.”_

Emma felt the tension, the excitement emanating from Killian the closer they came to the docks.  She stole a quick glance at him as they continued, and the sight nearly brought tears to her eyes.  She’d never seen him look so young, so happy, so carefree.  He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, a kid who was about to receive the best gift of his life.

She couldn’t even imagine.

They’d talked about Liam once or twice, but the conversations were always short, clipped.  It was as though Killian _wanted_ to open up to her but couldn’t, as though the pain of Liam’s death was still too fresh to speak of even centuries later.

Not really surprising.  Liam Jones was Killian’s other true love, his brother, his role model, his hero, in many ways his father.  To have someone that important suddenly ripped away…she couldn’t even imagine.

At the brisk pace Killian was taking (she doubted he realized it but he was more or less dragging her along), it took only minutes to reach the docks.  Things seemed calmer here than they’d been elsewhere in the town.  Whether it was due to the calming influence Killian insisted the sea had on all sailors or whether it was due to the calmer nature of Underbrooke’s maritime population, Emma didn’t know, but she appreciated it.  It would be much easier to find Liam in a place that wasn’t filled with pandemonium.

Killian spotted him first.  He stopped still, his eyes going wide as saucers.  “Liam” he breathed.

It was a bare whisper, so quiet even Emma struggled to hear it, but somehow the elder Jones brother must have sensed Killian’s presence.  No sooner had the name left Killian’s lips but Liam’s head jerked up and he looked right at them.

For a moment the two brothers were frozen in place, merely looking at each other, drinking each other in, and then they moved forward all at once, faces wreathed in smiles, tears in their eyes. 

Killian stopped a foot away from Liam.  His mouth worked, but no sound came out, the emotion clearly overwhelming.  It was Liam who spoke first.  “It’s been a long time, little brother.”

Killian chuckled.  “I think you mean ‘younger’ brother, Liam.”

Liam laughed for a moment, and then Killian launched himself into his brother’s arms, burying his face in the taller man’s neck, holding on for all he was worth.  Liam, for his part held his brother just as tightly.

Emma let the tears flow freely as she watched yet another piece of her True Love’s broken heart slowly mend.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Killian walked the short distance to Liam’s Underbrooke office in silence.  After the initial joy of being reunited with his beloved brother, the doubts and pain had set in.  Liam was…Liam.  His brother, his hero, his role model, his everything growing up.  Liam had done all in his power to insure Killian grew into a good man.

Instead, he’d become Captain Hook.  How was he to face his brother with so much blood, so much villainy on his hands?  How was he to look his brother in the eye after he found out the whole of it?

How was he to survive the scorn and disappointment he saw in Liam’s eyes when he found out what his brother had become?

Liam had made an off-hand comment about Killian’s change in wardrobe, and Killian had seen him eye his hook with curiosity, but it was clear he didn’t yet realize the change was far more than a matter of fashion.

As they walked, Henry prattled on, peppering Liam with questions about ships, with comments about what Killian had taught him.  It was enough of a distraction that Killian was fairly certain Liam hadn’t noticed Killian’s change in mood.

But Emma wasn’t fooled.  “Hey,” she said under her breath.  “You okay?”

He pasted a false smile on his face.  “Fine, love.  I’ve found my brother; what could be wrong?”

She gave him a searching look.  “I don’t know, but something definitely is.  We share a heart, remember?  I _know_ when something is bothering you.”

Killian blew out a long breath, eyed Henry and Liam, now several steps ahead of them, and then turned back to Emma.  “It’s merely…I’m no longer the same man Liam remembers.  When he knows what I’ve done, what I’ve become…”

“Hey,” Emma said, stepping before him and putting a hand on his chest.  “Things may have changed, but you’re still the same man you always were.  I’m sure when Liam hears the whole story he’ll…”

“Come on guys!” Henry called, stopping before a whitewashed wooden building, “we’re here!”

Killian gave Emma a sad smile and kissed her gently.  “You’ve no idea what your belief in me means, Emma, but I fear there are some sins it’s nearly impossible to expunge.”

He stepped around her and into Liam’s office before Emma could speak again.  He spoke the truth.  He did appreciate the way his love believed in him, but he feared her affection for him blinded her to his true nature.  What manner of man was he to give in to the darkness so quickly after being turned?  Perhaps…perhaps no matter how hard he worked, how hard he tried, he could never overcome it.

Liam would see him as he truly was, and Killian could scarcely bear the thought.

“Come in, come in!” Liam said, spreading his hands wide.  “Have a seat.  I’d offer you all refreshments, but I’m aware of the strings Underworld has on the living.”

“It’s no problem,” Emma said, taking Killian’s hand and sitting him beside her at the small table.  “Turns out we haven’t been hungry or thirsty since we got down here.”

“Yeah, but go ahead and eat something if you want,” Henry said.  “We don’t mind.”

“Not at all lad,” Liam said, turning his eyes toward Killian.  “I’m quite comfortable.  So little brother, it’s been a long time.  I want to hear all about your adventures since I saw you last.”

Killian dropped his head and felt Emma’s hand, warm and comforting on his back.  “I fear the tale is rather grisly, brother.”

A look of concern came into Liam’s eyes.  Killian knew that look.  That was Liam’s “older brother” look, the look he wore when he wished to help, to comfort.  The knot of guilt in Killian’s stomach pulled tighter.  He didn’t deserve his brother’s comfort.

“Tell me lad,” Liam said.  “Tell me what troubles you.”

Killian could never deny his brother when he spoke so gently, so patiently.  The floodgates opened, and Killian told his brother everything from becoming a pirate after Liam’s death to nearly damning Emma’s entire family as the Dark One.  He’d dropped his eyes to the table before him after his first revelation, unable to meet his hero’s eyes.

When he’d reached the end of the tale, a heavy silence descended on the group, and Killian kept his eyes resolutely down, unable to meet the eyes of the three people he loved most.

It was Henry who broke the silence.  “That isn’t all, Killian,” he said earnestly.  “You forgot to tell Liam how you took my moms back to Neverland, and how you helped them save me.”

“That’s true,” Emma agreed, “or how you traded your ship to get to me in New York so you could save me and my whole family.”

“Yeah,” Henry went on, “or how you stood up to Grandma and Grandpa in the author’s storybook to protect mom and me.”

“Or how you followed me through the time portal and helped me save my parents relationship,” Emma continued.

“Or how you wouldn’t rest until you found a way to get to mom and save her from the Dark One Curse,” Henry added.

“Or,” Emma said very deliberately, “how you managed to overcome the greatest darkness in all the realms and save all of us.  Killian, you may only see your faults, but more people than you know owe their lives and their well-being to you.  You sell yourself far too short.”

Killian felt his throat clog as he listened to his Swan and her lad defend him.  Did they really see him in that manner?  As a true hero?  Did they truly have such faith in him?  It was their words that finally gave him the courage he needed to meet Liam’s eyes.

What he saw in his brother’s eyes floored him.  Rather than accusation and disappointment, he saw compassion and love.  The hint of a smile turned up Liam’s lips.

“There you have it little brother,” he said finally.  “No man who was truly irredeemable would elicit such love and loyalty.  Though you’ve made mistakes, you’ve clearly worked hard to turn your life around.”

Killian felt hope begin to blossom in his chest.  “But…but the man I was, the man who still has so much darkness within him.  How can you, a veritable paragon of virtue ever forgive me?”

Liam’s smile widened.  “Killian, lad, I’m no god, nor am I perfect.  I have my own faults, my own deeds that I wish to all the gods I’d never committed.  None of us are perfect, nor is perfection the mark of a hero.  The mark of a hero is making the _choice_ for good rather than evil.  It’s in the striving that one achieves hero status.  And in that, Killian, you have clearly more than succeeded.”

Killian felt the tears flood his eyes.  “Coming from you, brother,” he said thickly, “That means everything in the world.”

Liam clasped Killian’s shoulder, and Killian felt nothing but love and forgiveness flowing from him.  “All I ever wanted for you, Killian, was happiness, love, family.  Looking at this woman, this lad who clearly adore you, I’d say my hopes were fully realized.”

Killian looked around, alternately hoping and fearing to see a door filled with light appear.  He wanted to see his brother enter eternal happiness, but…having only just found him again, he dreaded the moment of separation once again.

But he needn’t have worried.  The four of them talked and laughed for what felt like hours, and no door ever appeared. 

“Liam,” Killian said finally, “What is keeping you here?  What is your unfinished business?”

Liam was silent for several moments, looking thoughtful.  Finally, he spoke.  “When I first woke from the curse I thought it was you, lad.  I thought I would be here until I was assured of your well-being.”

“But when you learned that Killian has a home, people who love him, a full life waiting for him, you still remained,” Emma said.  “Why is that?”

A hard look came into Liam’s eyes.  “There is one other man who influenced my life more than any other.  One other man who forced me to be a man long before I was ready.  One other man for whom my anger burns as strongly as the day he left.”

“Our father,” Killian said in a hard voice. 

“The very same,” Liam said with a nod.  “I’ve need to confront him; to find some way to forgive him.”

Killian sighed, looking down and picking at the table before him.  “As do I,” he said in a small voice.  “But…I told you what I did to him, to our youngest brother.  Perhaps I need to beg his forgiveness as much as I need to forgive.”

“Well then it’s settled,” Emma said in a matter of fact voice, getting to her feet.  “We go find your father and find that closure you all so desperately need.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed, getting heavily to his feet.  “There’s but one difficulty, love.  We’ve no idea where our father is.”

Liam smiled.  “As to that, I think I may have an idea.  If memory serves me correctly, the bartender down at the Demonic Rabbit bears a striking resemblance to our dearly departed father.”

“Great!  Then it’s off to the Demonic Rabbit!” Henry said enthusiastically.

 

_Notes;_

_\--I’m baaack!  My trip to France felt far too short, but it gave me some desperately needed R &R time.  Hopefully it gave me the inspiration I needed to dig into the last few chapters of this fic as well!_

_\--The backstory is almost completed.  Only one more chapter to go, and then the rest will be full steam ahead with events in the current timeline._

_\--Up next:  Back in time, we see the aftermath of Hercules drinking the mortal potion.  In the present, Emma, Henry and the Jones boys find Brennan Jones._


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23

_Enchanted Forest, a few years before the first Dark Curse_

As soon as Hercules swallowed the last of the potion he felt the change occur. Slowly, he felt the strength drain from his body, like rain water washing over him.  Everything around him slowed and dulled.  Colors became far less vibrant, sounds less pure.  The sensation was unpleasant, to say the least.

But if his sacrifice had managed to save Meg, it was more than worth it. He…didn’t know what to think of the revelations of the last half hour.  This woman he’d thought was falling in love with him had been working with Hades to actively bring him down?  It was impossible to take in.  The pain of betrayal hit unexpectedly, but Hercules shoved it aside.  It would take some time and significant effort to return to the trust and easy relationship they’d had, but none of that mattered now.

All that mattered was ensuring that the woman he loved…because gods did he love her, despite everything…was saved from a fate worse than death.

Hercules crossed his arms and glared at Hades. “Alright, it’s done.  I’m mortal again.  Now let the lady go.”

Hades grinned nastily. “Yeah, about that…”

With a snap of his fingers, the hell beast (Chernabog, didn’t Hades call it?) roared back to life. In a lightning-fast move, he grabbed Meg in his mighty talons and then dove into the sea that led to the Underworld, Meg’s startled cry gurgled in the water and then went still.

“No!” Hercules thundered, running full speed forward, intent on following after them. Hades waved his hand, once more, and an invisible barrier came up, stopping Hercules in his tracks as he bounced off of it and fell back onto the dirt road.  Furious, livid, he turned on the god of the dead.  “You promised!  You SWORE to me that if I drank the potion you’d let Meg go free; you’d let her live!”

Hades shook his head, toothy grin in place. “Why does everyone seem to think I’ll honor my deals?  In case you didn’t notice, I’m the _devil_.  Being upright and honorable and all that jazz isn’t exactly my thing.”

“But you gave your word!” Hercules spat.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Hades said, his grin widening even more. “Here’s the thing, though.  Fine print and wording are everything.  I did give my word that Meg would live, and guess what?  I had my associate drag her to hell still alive, so we’re all good there.  And then letting her go?  Well, I didn’t specify _when_ , now did I?  I’ll let her go free alright—after I chain her up in my little antechamber of souls for, oh, a good century or so.  So, no harm, no foul.  Even being the devil, I kept my word.”

Hercules felt the anger and hatred flood his system. With a roar, he charged Hades, beyond caution, beyond reason.  A second before he made impact, Hades poofed himself five feet away in a swirl of blue smoke.  Hercules barely managed to stop himself before he ran into a tree.

Hades sighed loudly and shook his head as though disappointed. “Here’s the thing, Herc.  I’m _immortal_ , remember?  That means you can’t hurt me.  You might want to get some help for that little anger, problem, though.”

Hercules clenched his fist, breathing hard. Slowly, he turned around, facing the god once again.  “Why?” he said through clenched teeth.  “You had what you wanted!  I drank the potion!  I’m _mortal_ again!  Why kidnap the woman I love?”

“What _is_ it with mortals and their narcissism?” Hades asked no one in particular.  “Always think everything is about them.  Well, guess what, Wonderboy?  This has nothing to do with you.  You’re girlfriend double crossed me.  She went back on our deal, and _no one_ goes back on a deal with Hades.  She was doomed the moment she fell in love with you and decided to betray me.  Hey!  Maybe you were right after all.  This _is_ about you.  Well, gotta run.  I’ve got a way-too-mouthy broad to imprison and possibly torture.  Have fun blaming yourself for your beloved Meg being dragged to hell!”

With that, Hades poofed out, and Hercules found himself once again alone. In the space of a heartbeat, the pain and guilt came.  What good was he anyway?  His super-human strength had never been anything but a force for destruction, and yet the one time he desperately needed it, it failed him.  Because of him, his Meg was stuck in the Underworld, undergoing who knew what kind of tortures.

He’d failed and he’d lost it all, and the woman he loved was the one paying the price.

He wandered off aimlessly, no longer caring where he went or what he did. Every drop of joy had left his world.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

For a solid week Hercules wallowed in the misery of his loss and failure, spending far more time in the local tavern than anywhere else.

It didn’t help; nothing did.

He woke up one morning, a week after his encounter with Hades, lying sprawled in the alley beside the tavern. He sat up slowly, hands going to his aching head, a stale, sour taste in his mouth.  In a quick flash of self-awareness it occurred to him that his methods of handling his pain were singularly unhealthy—not to mention unhelpful.

What kind of a man was he becoming? Certainly not a hero.

With a groan, he got to his feet, and stepped out of the alley into the blinding light of day. He cursed, shielding his eyes, and then began stumbling forward until he’d made his way to the countryside outside the bounds of the town.  Where he would go, what he would do he didn’t know.  All he knew was that he had to make a change.  He had to live his life in such a way that Meg would be proud of him.  Then perhaps, just perhaps, when his time came they could be reunited.  Perhaps it was only in death that he’d rescue his beloved and spend eternity with her.

Eternity seemed very, very, very far off, but at least there was _hope_.  Try as he might, Hades had failed to utterly stamp that out.

Hercules walked steadily for half a day, until he found himself on the banks of a river. Seeing the water, hearing the crash of it flowing against the rocks suddenly reminded Hercules of just how hot and tired he was.  Stooping down, he scooped a handful of the cool, crisp water to his mouth and drank deeply, then repeated the motion again and again.  When his thirst had finally been slaked, he cupped his hands, gathered another handful of the water, and poured it over his head, sighing in pleasure as he felt the sweat and exhaustion wash away.

He was so caught up in seeing to his needs that he didn’t hear the person approaching until she was only feet from him. Hearing the soft fall of feet along the forest floor to his back, Hercules got heavily to his feet, spun around and brought his hands up, ready to defend himself to the best of his ability.

He found himself face to face with the bow and arrow of none other than Snow White. It took Snow less than a heartbeat to realize she’d come upon a friend and drop her bow.

“Hercules?” she asked, tossing her arrow back in its quiver. “Is that you?”

Hercules smiled weakly. “Yes, your highness,” he answered.  “It would appear our paths cross again.  Luckily it’s under happier circumstances this time.”

She gave him a long, assessing look. “I’m not so sure that’s a true statement,” she said after a moment.  “I don’t mean to be offensive, but you look terrible.”

Hercules wilted, dropping his head into one hand. “True enough, I’m sure,” he mumbled.  “I’m sure I feel as miserable as I look.”

Snow moved forward, and Hercules felt her hand on his arm. “Here,” she said, leading him forward, “have a seat against this tree.”

Hercules let himself be led, surprised how motherly this warrior woman, who was no older than he, could be.

“Now,” Snow went on as soon as they were both seated in the soft grass, “what’s happened to make you look so miserable? Last time I saw you, you were excited and couldn’t wait to find out about your family.  I take it that quest didn’t go well?”

Hercules sighed, shaking his head forlornly. “That is quite the tale.  How much time do you have, my lady?”

Her eyes flickered. “Well…I do have somewhere I need to be, but I’ve got more than enough time for a friend.  What’s happened since we last met?”

“I did as you suggested,” Hercules began. “I went to the temple of the gods, and I discovered more than I ever expected to find.  As it happens, I’m the son of Zeus and Hera.”

Snow gasped. “You’re a _god_?”

Hercules grimaced. “Not anymore.  I was kidnapped by minions of my uncle Hades when I was an infant and fed a potion meant to take away my divinity.  As it happens, Hades’ minions were rather…inept, and I didn’t drink all of the potion.”

“So…you still retain some of your godhood?”

“I…did,” Hercules said bleakly. “My father, Zeus told me that if I could prove myself to be a true hero, I would regain my full god status, and I’d be allowed to return to his home on Mount Olympus.  I made some progress at becoming a hero, but…now I’ve lost everything.”

“What happened?”

“I met a woman and fell in love,” Hercules said simply.

“And she betrayed you?” Snow asked.

“Well, that’s a bit difficult to answer,” Hercules said, voice heavily ironic. “Let’s just say, her hand was forced, but when she fell in love with me as well, she changed her mind, refused to do my uncle’s dirty work.”

“Let me guess,” Snow said with a frown, “Hades didn’t take it well?”

“No,” Hercules said, chuckling humorlessly. “To say the least.  As punishment, he dragged her to the Underworld while she still lives.  I…tried to prevent it by drinking the potion my uncle prepared for me, but in the end he betrayed us both.”

“Oh, Hercules,” Snow said earnestly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.  What are you going to do?”

“Do?” he asked incredulously. “What _can_ I do, Your Highness?  I’m fully mortal now.  Even if I could find a way to the Underworld, what chance would I have fighting against a god?”

Snow was silent for a moment, and then turned aside and rifled through her satchel. She pulled out a folded sheet of parchment.  “Hercules, do you know what this is?”

“It appears to be a letter.”

“Yeah,” Snow said with a soft, secret smile, “but it’s not just any letter. It’s a letter from the man I love, the man I’m absolutely sure is my true love—Prince James, the newly adopted son of King George.”

“I’m…sure a letter from your sweetheart must be a pleasant thing to have,” Hercules said, brow furrowing, “but I’m afraid I don’t see the connection to my own situation.”

“There are…difficulties for James, or Charming as I call him, and me,” Snow said. “A marriage to another woman has been arranged for him, and I’m…well, I’m an outlaw.  I thought we would always be nothing but a pair of star-crossed lovers, but this tiny little letter changed everything.”

“If it’s not too forward,” Hercules said, “what does the letter contain?”

“Charming wrote to tell me that he loves me, that he _chooses_ me, that he’ll give up his crown and defy his father to be with me,” Snow said, and Hercules could hear the awe in her voice.  “He’s asked me to meet him if I feel the same way.  Do you know what this letter made me realize?”

Hercules remained silent, waiting for Snow to answer her own question.

“It made me realize that True Love is special, magical. It _must_ be fought for, no matter how difficult or even impossible the fight might seem.”

Hercules felt the flame of hope rekindle in his heart. “And…you think I should fight for my Meg?”

She smiled brilliantly at him. “If she’s your true love… _absolutely_.  Hercules, love can be difficult, but it is _so_ worth it.  Don’t let your uncle win.  Fight!  Save your love or help her save herself!”

When Snow White spoke that fiercely, with that much conviction, Hercules couldn’t help but believe that anything in all the realms was possible. “You’re right,” he said, getting to his feet.  “Meg damn well should not have to suffer the torments of the Underworld, and she won’t.  Not while there’s still breath in my body!”

“That’s the spirit!” Snow said, getting to her own feet.

“That only leaves one question,” Hercules said. “How exactly does one _get_ to the Underworld, save by the usual method of death?”

Snow thought for a moment and then smiled. “Maybe your father can help you there,” she said.  “You may not be able to get home until you’ve regained your godhood, but I bet he could help you get to your True Love if you asked him.”

And ask him Hercules had. Zeus had shown more than a little reluctance to help his only son get to a place as dangerous as the Underworld, but in the end, Hercules had convinced him.  So it was that less than 24 hours after his meeting with Snow White, Hercules found himself in the Underworld, filled with enthusiasm and a determination to turn the entire place upside down if he needed to.  No matter what, he’d find his Meg and save her from her fate.  That’s what True Love did.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Killian felt the tension radiate through his body as he walked the last few feet to the Underworld version of the White Rabbit bar. So many emotions ran through him; so many thoughts.

Though he’d lived for well-nigh three centuries, the thought of coming face to face once more with his father made him feel like that little boy who’d woken one morning to find his hero gone. It was a day he’d never forget.  He’d loved his father so totally, so completely.  He’d been little Killian’s hero.

And yet he’d walked away. He’d abandoned his children.  He’d sold them into slavery.  Even three centuries wasn’t enough time to dull the agony of that memory.

Even with the pain, Killian was self-aware enough to recognize the love that refused to be quenched. There was a part of him, no matter how much of a bastard his father had been in life, that would always love him.  There was a part of him that would always have hope that one day Brennan Jones would return, beg for forgiveness and assure Killian that his love was far from unrequited.

And now…after what he’d done to his father, there was yet another emotion mixed in as well—terrible, aching guilt. What manner of man kills his own father, no matter how terrible he might be?  What manner of man orphans and then abandons his young brother?

A villain and a cad, that’s who.

Killian took a deep breath, preparing himself for ordeal ahead, fervently hoping the pain of it all wouldn’t kill him all over again. He felt Emma’s hand, holding his, squeeze gently, and he smiled down at her.  His lovely Swan understood; she always understood.  He didn’t have to endure this trial alone; she would be with him, loving him, supporting him, giving him strength come what may.

His love for her swelled until he feared his half of her heart would burst with it.

Up ahead, Liam moved with purpose, the tense set of his shoulders telling Killian as clearly as words that his brother looked forward to this meeting no more than he did. For a moment, Killian thought about what their father’s abandonment must have done to Liam.  Killian had merely had to endure the pain, as difficult as that was; Liam had to step up and be a man at a far too young age.  He’d given up his childhood that day so that he could stand in the gap and be the father, the provider Killian needed.

Gods but he loved his brother.

“It’s going to be okay,” Emma said softly, leaning her head against his. “He can’t hurt you anymore, and you can’t hurt him.  This will give you the healing and closure you need, and Henry and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Killian leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I know, Swan, and I’m more grateful than I could ever say.  I just wish this ordeal was over.”

“It will be soon.”

They reached the Demonic Rabbit, and Liam paused for a moment, his hand on the door. Dropping his head, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Killian gently disentangled his hand from Emma’s and stepped forward, placing a supportive hand on his brother’s shoulder.  Liam looked back, giving him a grateful smile.

“Are you ready little brother?” he asked.

Killian blew out a long breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Liam nodded and opened the door. Killian looked around with interest.  The interior looked far less like its Storybrooke equivalent…and far more like the tavern where he’d found his father again so many years ago.  The pain of what he’d done to his father after meeting him at that tavern slammed into Killian, and for a moment he could barely breathe.

And then he saw Brennan Jones wiping at a glass behind the bar, and the pain increased even more in intensity. The tears scratched at the back of his eyes, but Killian swallowed hard, willing the telltale emotional display to subside.

It took a moment, but eventually Brennan Jones looked up—and then prominently dropped the glass he was wiping, the tumbler breaking with a thunderous crash that made Henry jump, but otherwise received no reaction from the players in this little drama.

“Killian,” Brennan whispered weakly. After a moment, the older man broke eye contact with his middle child, and looked to Liam.  “And you must be…?”

“Captain Liam Jones,” Liam ground out, striding purposely forward until he’d reached the bar behind which his father stood. “Your eldest son, in case you’ve forgotten my existence.”

Brennan Jones staggered under the words as though they had been bullets aimed for his chest. He stumbled toward a nearby table, vaguely waving his sons forward to join him.  As soon as he’d sunk into his own chair, Brennan put his head in his hands and sighed deeply.  After a moment, he raised his head, and despite his own anger, Killian couldn’t miss the raw, naked agony in his father’s eyes.

“Liam, lad…” he said. “Of _course_ I haven’t forgotten your existence.  I’ve remembered you and your brother, _loved_ the two of you every day of my life and death.”

Liam’s eyes flashed fire. “Truly father?” he spat.  “Was it an act of love that inspired you to leave your sons?  To sell us into slavery?”

Liam got to his feet, ran a hand through his hair and began pacing. “Do you have _any_ idea what your actions did to us?  To _me_?”  Liam continued.  “Not only did I lose my father that day, I lost my childhood!  I was forced to become a man at the tender age of 14!  The pain of my father leaving was like a living thing in my chest, yet I had to shove it aside, had to be strong for my brother.  For ten years, _ten years,_ Killian and I lived as slaves on that bloody ship!  For ten years we received the brunt of the captain’s sharp tongue—not to mention his whip—at the slightest provocation!   I did everything in my power to protect Killian, to be the father he no longer had, but I couldn’t always stop the beatings.

“Do you know what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of your beloved little brother crying into his pillow because he missed his father so damn much it nearly killed him? _Do you_?  Do you know how helpless it makes a man to have no way to ease that pain?”

Suddenly all the fight seemed to leave Liam, and he settled heavily back into his chair. Killian looked over to see the tears running down Emma’s face, and he squeezed her hand, hoping to impart comfort, to get comfort in return.

Liam spoke once more, and the agony in his voice went straight to Killian’s heart. “Why, father?  Why?”

Brennan Jones sat silently through Liam’s entire speech, his head hanging lower and lower with every word. Finally, he looked up, and there were tears on his face, flowing from his eyes.  “There is no excuse,” he said thickly.  “There is nothing that could have ever justified my actions to you, Liam or to your brother.  I was a coward, the most selfish of cads.  I know that no apology could ever suffice, but please believe this:  I’ve regretted my actions of that day every moment since.  There hasn’t been a _second_ when I haven’t wished I could go back and change what I did to you.”

Silence reined in the tavern for several heartbeats, but finally Liam spoke up again, his voice far less angry and more pained this time. “If that’s the truth, why did you never try?  Why did you never come back for us?”

Brennan shot Killian a quick look, and then turned back toward his oldest son. “I was placed under a sleeping curse almost immediately after I fled.  It was only when I received a True Love’s Kiss from the woman who would one day become my wife that I was awoken.  By that time, more than a century had passed, and I believed both you and your brother were long dead and buried.”

Killian spoke for the first time. “You…you told me that love, True Love changed you.  Did you speak the truth?”

“Aye, lad,” Brennan said, and Killian could see the sincerity in his face. “Your…stepmother changed me, inspired me to be a better man, inspired me to be the man I was meant to be.  Through her tender love and faith in me I turned from my cowardice and villainy and did everything in my power to become a man worthy of her.  Can you…can you understand that?”

Killian shot Emma a quick glance, and she smiled at Brennan. “Aye, Father,” he said softly.  “As it happens, the exact same thing happened to me.”

Brennan Jones shot a curious look in Emma’s direction, and after a moment nodded at her. “You have my thanks then, my lady, for healing my Killian, for helping him move past the pain of his past—pain that I have no small part in causing to my everlasting shame.”

Emma grabbed Killian’s arm and held on tightly as she rested her head against his shoulder. “You know, in a lot of ways he saved me and healed me as much as I did for him.  That’s what True Love does, brings out the best in both people.”

Brennan nodded again, took a deep breath, and then looked back at Liam. “I know I have no right to ask this, but is there any way you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”

For a moment Liam’s face remained stormy, and then abruptly, the anger drained away. “I doubt I shall ever forget the trauma, but I know one thing.  Neither of us, _none_ of us can benefit from hatred and resolute unforgiveness.  And so, father, I do forgive you.  Sincerely.  I…I missed you.”

With that, he launched himself at his father, gripping him in a hug so tight as to be nearly bruising. When he pulled back, there were tears on his face, but a smile on his face.  It was as though a burden he’d carried for centuries had finally lifted.

After a moment, Brennan turned toward Killian. “And you, my lad.  Can you…can you forgive me as well?”

Killian felt the tears clog his throat. “Aye, father.  Most assuredly, but I find that I need your forgiveness as much as you apparently need mine.  What I did to you that day by your hut…when I…when I killed you and left my brother an orphan…there are no words for what a terrible act that was, and I regret it to the depths of my soul.  I’ve no right to ask it, but I beg of you to accept my apology.”

Brennan got to his feet and took his younger son into his arms. “Of course I forgive you, Killian, lad.  We’ve both made terrible mistakes, but when you love someone all sins can be forgiven.  You are my son, and I love you with all my heart.”

As Killian clung to his father, he felt the peace, like a gentle blanket, warmed in the sun, drape itself over him. The pain and anger of so many centuries melted away to be replaced by love.

After a moment, Liam stepped forward, and the three Jones men held on for dear life as their fractured hearts slowly mended.

At long last, Brennan pulled away. “My son…my youngest son.  What became of him?”

Killian glanced aside. “I…I’m afraid I don’t know.  That day at the cottage…it was the last time I saw him.”

Brennan nodded. “Then I have but one thing to ask of you, Killian, as you’re still among the living.”

“Anything, Father.”

“Find your brother,” he said, “find out what became of my younger Liam.”

“I will indeed,” Killian vowed. “And should he still live, I will do everything in my power to help him in any need he might have.”

Brennan smiled and clasped him on the shoulder. “That’s my good lad.”

After a moment, a bright door, suffused with light appeared just outside the tavern, next to the wishing well that sat there. Killian felt his heart clench in a bittersweet way, knowing that it was time for his father and his brother to move on. 

He and his lass had done what they’d set out to do, but he’d miss his family desperately until the day they were reunited.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Emma felt as though she’d been through an emotional storm as she watched the man she loved and his brother reconcile with their father. It was all she’d ever wanted for him—peace, healing, joy.  The thought that a wound that had festered for centuries was finally closed, healed, nearly brought her to her knees.

When the door to Elysium appeared, she smiled through her tears…but then a sudden idea came to her mind. It was crazy; absolutely insane, but the second it came to mind, Emma knew it was _right_.  It was the way things were meant to be.

The two oldest Jones men got to their feet, preparing to bid Killian their final goodbyes and then walk into the light, but Emma stopped them with a gently raised hand. “You guys can choose when you leave, can’t you?”  She asked.

Liam gave her a curious look. “Aye.  I can’t deny a yearning for the peace and rest on the other side of the door, but our time of departure is our own choice.”

“Would you mind waiting for a few minutes?” she asked. “There’s… something I have to talk over with Killian, and it simply can’t wait.”

“I’ve been here for decades, love,” Brennan said. “A few more minutes can’t hurt.”

Emma nodded her thanks, and then pulled at Killian’s arm, leading him out the door and toward the wishing well, but when she’d reached her destination, she suddenly found herself tongue-tied, unsure how to bring up the topic.

“Swan?” Killian asked gently, raising her face with soft fingers, looking into her eyes.  “What’s the matter love?  What is this about?”

Emma smiled nervously. “There’s nothing the matter, Killian.  It’s just…I love you.  So much it almost hurts.”

His face softened even more, and he leaned down to gently brush his lips against hers. “And I you, Swan, as you well know.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah, I do, but that wasn’t all I wanted to say.  I’m…I’m not good with words like you are, and I’ll probably make a total mess of this, but there’s something I have to say, and something I have to ask.”

“Go on, love,” Killian said gently.

“Do you remember back in Camelot when we talked about having a future together?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, brows furrowed.

“Well, I still want that,” Emma said. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.  I want to go home with you and start our lives together in our house by the sea.  I want us to have a room for Henry for the time he’s staying with us.  I want…maybe one day…some kids of our own.  I want to be with you forever.  I want us to be that disgustingly sweet couple who likes to hold hands while we sit together on our front porch swing when we’re ninety.”

“I fear I’ve long passed that age, love,” Killian said with a grin, “but aside from that, I want everything you just mentioned. _Everything_.  You know I’m as thoroughly committed to our future together as you are, do you not?”

Emma smiled and took his hand. “Yeah, I do know that,” she said gently, “and that’s why, Killian, I want to make it permanent and official.  I know this isn’t exactly the most romantic place for this, but…I have to ask.  I can’t wait any longer.  Will you marry me?”

She’d shocked him. She could tell that right away.  His jaw dropped and his eyes became as big as saucers.  After a few moments, he swallowed thickly and pasted a weak smile on his face.  “I was under the impression I was supposed to ask _you_ that question.”

“Figures you’d be old fashioned about this.”

He laughed, reaching his hand up to cup her cheek. “I love you with every beat of our shared heart, my Emma.  There’s nothing I would like more than to become your husband, but are you sure?  We’ve been through a lot; are you sure this is truly what you want?”

She smiled gently, covering his hand on her cheek with her own. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Killian.  I _want_ this.”

Killian surged forward and kissed her deeply for long moments. Eventually he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.  “Then marry we shall, Swan.  You’ve but to name the day.”

She grinned, wondering how he’d take her next suggestion. “I’m glad you said that, because I was kind of thinking the day we should name is…today.”

His jaw dropped again. “Pardon, love, _today_?  You wish to get married _today_?”

She looked aside, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah, it’s just…I mean your dad and your brother are about to move on to Elysium.  This is the last time you’ll see them in this life.  I just thought…you know…maybe if we married today, that would give them a chance to be there.  They could see you find your happy ending before they went on to paradise.  I mean, Liam’s a ship captain, right?  He can perform weddings?”

Killian tipped her face up, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw tears swimming in their bright blue depths. “You’d…you’d do that for me, Swan?” he asked thickly.  “You’d forego a traditional wedding just so that my family can be present as we say our vows?”

“Of _course_ , I’d do this for you, you idiot!  Besides, it’s not exactly just for you.  As soon as I knew I wanted to be your wife, I couldn’t wait to get married.  When you’re confirmed True Love, what’s there left to wait for?” Emma said with a shrug.  “And anyway, traditional is overrated.  We can always do the whole big white wedding thing later when we get back to Storybrooke.  In fact my mom will probably insist on it.”

Killian chuckled. “Aye, that she will.  So, we’re truly doing this, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she said, lacing her fingers with his. “Let’s go talk to your family and our son.  We’ve got a wedding to plan.”

_Notes:_

_\--A bit of a long chapter today, but there was lots of ground that needed to be covered!_

_\--With the close of this chapter, the Hades/Hercules/Megara backstory comes to an end! In case you didn’t catch it, Hercules met back up with Snow at roughly the time of that season 1 episode (I don’t remember which it was), when Charming sent Snow that note asking her to come meet him at the castle if she loved him, and he would break it off with Katherine and be with her.  Snow, of course, immediately set out for King George’s castle—and all went well until King George threatened to kill Charming unless she broke things off with him._

_\--As far as the present day section goes, ever since I heard that Liam would be back, it’s been my fondest headcanon that he, as a ship’s captain, would marry Killian and Emma in a small, elopement style wedding in the Underworld. That obviously didn’t happen in canon—but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen in a canon divergence fic, right?_

_\--Up next: We meet back up with the rest of the group as they go try to help people move on and get intel on the bad guys. To their horror, they learn that they don’t have a couple weeks to defeat Hades—they have barely 2 hours!  Meanwhile, we return to the Underworld wishing well and attend a CS wedding!_


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Yay!  I’ve been looking forward to this chapter ever since we found out Liam would be back in 5x15 and we started getting the spoilers of him and CS filming at the wishing well.  You’re cordially invited to the wedding of Emma Swan and Killian Jones.  Warning: major romantic fluff ahead in scene 2!_

_~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~_

_Underworld, present day_

Hades drummed his fingers against his desk, scowl in place, blue hair periodically flaming. Suddenly he got up and began to pace. 

What was the _deal_?  Everything was starting to fall into place.  It was late afternoon, only a few short hours left and the plan could be put into motion and all would be well.  Really, he hated to say it, but Rumple had concocted a rather brilliant idea.  By trapping all the heroes down in the Underworld, they would be safe from any meddling as they worked to get Hades his back his _rightful_ place in the universe.

So why was he so restless he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin? Why did he have this sinking feeling of doom in the pit of his stomach that just as they were reaching out for victory it would be snatched from them?

Hades plopped back in his comfortable office chair. He blamed Rumple.

No sooner had Hades wrapped up his strategy session with all the villains heading to Storybrooke, than they’d all scattered like cockroaches back to the various holes they’d crawled out of, each one insisting they had affairs they needed to get in order before the trip, items they needed to pack to take with them, final goodbyes to say to their Underworld domiciles.

Really, he was losing his touch if the souls in his domain enjoyed their life there so much they were sad to leave—even for a renewed chance at life.

Within moments, only Hades, Cora and Rumple remained. With a quick peck to the cheek and a murmur about needing to consult her spell book one last time to make sure they were prepared for anything, Cora left as well.

And then Hades was left with Rumple and his smug, infuriating grin.

“Got something to say, Dark One?” he groused.

“As a matter of fact I do,” Rumple said, the smirk sliding from his face to be replaced with a sneer of loathing. “If you screw this up and I’m not able to get back to my wife, I promise you I will spend all of eternity making you _wish_ for the fires of hell.”

Hades rolled his eyes. “Yeah, hate to break it to you, but ‘god’ ranks _way_ higher than ‘Dark One’ on the food chain around here.  You can try, but we all know how it’ll end—with me squashing you like the disgusting little bug you are.  Besides, how the _hell_ do you think I can screw this up?”

“Don’t test me,” Rumple said through clenched teeth. “And as for how you could fail?  You underestimate the heroes at all of our peril.  The universe favors the hero, and if we don’t remain constantly vigilant, we’ll fail.”

Hades had laughed it off at the time, but…he couldn’t deny that it bugged him. Was it possible the heroes could destroy the foundation he and his associates had been building up for a couple weeks now?

The thought was enough to make his throat as dry as the flaming desert in the seventh ring of hell. He grabbed the bell on the edge of his desk and rang violently.  If he was going to make it through the rest of this day, he needed some serious liquid fortification.

Hades waited, drumming his fingers more insistently with every second that flew past. Good old Henry the butler didn’t show.  (He had to admit, it was a little weird when Cora insisted they have her ex as their butler, but having him serve them had its own kind of poetic justice.)

Hades rang again, his hair spiking. Still nothing.

With a growl, Hades pushed back from the desk, got to his feet, went to the doorway and bellowed for his worthless butler.

Still nothing.

Hades groaned and dropped his forehead to the unyielding wood of the door, banging it a few times for good measure. (Until, that is, his hair made it burst into flames, and Hades had to douse it.)  Damn inconvenient, the breaking of the curse.  It was getting nearly impossible to corral his minions now that they had their free will back.

“Hey Hades!” Pain said skidding to a stop before him, Panic close on his heels. “Heard you bellow!  So, the bad news is that we just saw Henry head out, and he did _not_ look like he planned to come back.”

“But the good news,” Panic said, “is that you’ve still got us!”

Hades closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head. If _that’s_ what passed for good news around here, they were all screwed.

“So, you need something? Do you?  Do you?”

Hades looked back and forth between the two eager little puppies before him, and an unexpected sudden gratitude welled up in him. These two might be totally incompetent, but they were _loyal_ , and even if all his other slaves left him, these two hadn’t.

“You know, I could use something,” he said, looking at the guys with something akin to affection. “Could you get me the biggest drink you can find.  I need it.”

“You’ve got it, sir!” Pain said, standing at attention and saluting. “What’ll it be today?  We have a wonderful new bottle of rum freshly stolen from the Demonic Rabbit!”

Hades winced. “No!  No rum.  Last thing I want to do is be reminded of that damn pirate and the way he and his True Love are trying to thwart me.  Just…give me whatever we have that’s _not_ rum.”

“Right away!” Pain said, running off to fulfill Hades’ command.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Panic said while they waited for Pain to return, “what’s got you so stressed out, Your Evilness? Seems like you’re about to get everything you ever wanted.”

Hades turned and stared sightlessly out the window where all kind of chaos was still taking place in the wake of the curse breaking. Finally he sighed and turned back to his sycophant.  “Can’t shake the feeling something’s still going to go epically wrong.  Until things are in motion and I _finally_ have the power and prestige I deserve, I’m gonna be on edge.”

Panic clucked sympathetically, shaking his head gently. “That’s just crazy, Hades!” he said.  “Your plan is _perfect_.  Who’s going to stop you?  The heroes are so busy running around trying to help souls move on to Elysium that they can’t even see their hands in front of their faces!  They have no idea what you have cooked up.”

Hades thought he heard a stifled gasp. He looked around quickly for the source of the sound, but aside from himself and Panic, the room was empty.  Must have been a trick of his imagination.

“Maybe,” he said reflectively, returning to the conversation at hand. “But I just can’t shake this feeling of doom.”

“Well cheer up, my lord,” Panic said, “not long now! Only a couple more hours before the blue moon rises and your plan to trap the heroes down here while you go to their world and get back your absolute power gets underway!”

There was that gasp again. Hades got up and physically checked the room this time.  Weird.  He was starting to crack up.

“I just hope to hell you’re right,” he said finally.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_It’s bloody amazing how quickly things can come together when there’s truly the will_ , Killian thought to himself as he stood by the wishing well just as the sun was beginning to set.  He fiddled with Liam’s ring, as he felt the flutters of excitement flood him.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and found himself face to face with Liam himself. “Nervous, little brother?”

Killian smiled broadly. “Not remotely.  There’s something about meeting your demise that brings what’s most important into sharp focus.  I’ve known for some time that there’s nothing in any realm I want more than my Emma’s hand in marriage.”

Father stepped up on his other side, smiling and nodding. “Aye, lad.  When love is true you _know_ it.  All fears and doubts melt away.”

Killian felt the urge to pinch himself, thinking about how truly and completely happy he was in this moment. The beginning of his happy ending would walk down the makeshift aisle toward him in mere moments, and he didn’t think he could contain the joy.

After Swan proposed, the two of them had headed back into the tavern, hand in hand, fairly glowing in their joy. Henry had picked up on the change in dynamic.  Quite perceptive he was, Swan’s lad.

“What’s going on, guys?” he asked, grinning right along with them.

“Would you like to tell him, love, or should I?” Killian asked.

Emma reached up and caressed his cheek for a moment and then smiled. “Go ahead.  I’ll let you do the honors.”

“Well, lad,” Killian said, “your mother has only just proposed marriage.”

“ _Really?_ ” Henry asked, and the excitement in his young voice did Killian good.  “And…what did you say?”

Killian scoffed. “You wound me, Henry.  Surely you don’t think me such a simpleton that I’d reject perfect happiness when it’s offered to me.  I’d very much like to become a part of your family.  Would you be amenable to that as well?”

Henry spontaneously launched himself at the both of them, wrapping both Emma and Killian in a hug. “That’s _awesome_!  When’s the wedding?  Can I be in it?  Do you want me to help with the planning?”

Emma grinned and placed a quick kiss against her son’s head. Killian noticed the lad had grown so much, she barely needed to bend her head to reach now.  “I sure hope you’ll help plan, and you’ll definitely be in it.  As for when…well, Killian and I were thinking…today.”

“Today?” Liam exclaimed. “Why the haste.

Killian walked over to his brother and father. “My love is an extraordinary woman.  She wished for us to wed before you move on, to see me get my happy ending.”

Liam shot Emma a warm look. “You’ve found yourself quite a woman, brother.”

“That I have,” Killian agreed quickly. “And Liam, we had hopes that you, as the captain of the _Jewel of the Realm_ might do us the honor of performing the ceremony.”

Liam shook Killian’s hand and then pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Killian, the honor would be all mine.”

And so a flurry of planning had commenced. With a flick of her wrist, Emma had dressed him in his Camelot attire.  With another wave, his father was similarly attired and Liam appeared smartly in his naval uniform.  After a moment of conferring with the lad, Emma produced something called a “stereo” and a small, round disc that she insisted would provide the perfect musical accompaniment for their big day.

With an eye to the beauty of the setting sun and the brilliantly colored autumn leaves surrounding them, Emma declared no need for more decoration, and so nearly all was arranged in five minutes’ time.

Apparently satisfied, Emma had given him one last kiss, and then disappeared into the woods with the lad, insisting she’d poof herself a wedding dress and some flowers there. Father and Liam had nodded sagely, reminding Killian that it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.

Personally, Killian was of the opinion their true love was far stronger than any “luck” that might come their way, but as it pleased him greatly to please his Swan, he graciously acceded to her plan.

So here they stood five minutes after that awaiting the start of the ceremony that would change—and infinitely enrich—his life forever.

Suddenly the sound of a harp filled the air, and Killian glanced over at the black contraption playing the music. The display told him it was playing something appropriately called “The Swan” by a fellow named Saint-Saens.  It was lovely to be sure, and Killian was rather glad that his own Swan had chosen it for their ceremony.

And then she appeared in the clearing on the arm of her tuxedoed son, and Killian breath caught in his chest. Gods, but she was the most beautiful woman ever to grace the planet.  She’d chosen a simple long, white sundress for her bridal attire.  She’d left her luxurious hair free and curling down her back, the sides gently pulled up in twin white clips.  She carried a bouquet of buttercups and forget-me-nots, closely entwined.  (Killian was later to learn the buttercups were an homage to her favorite moving picture, and the forget-me-nots were to represent his eyes, as the creator of his fictional version had described them.)

But it wasn’t the dress or the hair or the bouquet that left Killian breathless, it was the radiant smile gracing her lovely lips. She looked happy—and so desperately in love it fairly made his heart squeeze within his chest.

That his Swan was looking at him like that, that she’d _chosen_ him despite his villainous past, that her love for him poured from her in waves…all of it was a miracle straight from Elysium.

It felt to Killian’s waiting mind as though it took her forever to traverse the makeshift aisle, but at long last, Emma Swan stood at his side, eagerly taking his hand and hook.

“You look…” he whispered, suddenly falling silent. There were no words for it; she was indescribable.

A playful grin covered her face and she shrugged lightly. “I know.  And for the record…so do you.”

Killian had no idea how long the two of them would have stood there, merely holding hands and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes if Liam hadn’t broken the moment with the clearing of his throat.

“Dear family,” he began in his lyrical voice, “I think we all know why we’re gathered here, but lest any of us was stricken with a memory curse in the last ten minutes (as I’m told is fairly common in this Storybrooke where you reside), we are gathered her to act as witnesses as Emma Swan and Killian Jones pledge their lives to each other.”

Killian grinned. He’d had quite enough of memory curses lately, and he’d truly rather remember every tiny, exquisite detail of the best day of his life.

“Marriage is a sacred bond,” Liam continued, “a lifelong union of love. It is…”

“Aye, brother,” Killian said, “we’re aware. Can we get to the point where we make that sacred bond?” 

“Always was an impatient one, wasn’t he, Father?” Liam leaned over and stage whispered to Brennan.

“From the day of his birth, lad,” Brennan agreed.

Killian shook his head. “Tell me, if you’d waited three bloody centuries to wed the woman of your dreams, would you wish to wait any longer?”

“Point taken,” Liam said with a grin. “Very well, perhaps we’d best get to those vows.  Emma, would you like to begin?”

Emma took a deep breath and dropped her eyes, and then nodded. After a moment, she looked up, capturing his eyes with her own.

“Killian, I’m not, you know, all eloquent and everything, so I’ll just do my best to…just let you know what you mean to me.”

Killian squeezed her hand in response. It mattered not what words she used; he knew he’d treasure them to his dying day.

“Killian,” she started again, “I know I’m ‘the savior’, but in a lot of ways you saved me. You saved me from my loneliness.  You saved me from the walls I’d built around myself.  You saved me from running from my family.  You never gave up on me, never, no matter how many times I tried to run from the feelings I started having for you almost from the first.  After a lifetime of everyone leaving, everyone giving me up, you put me first.  You came back.  You gave away your home for me.  You loved me. _Me_ , not my status as savior, not what I could do for you, just _me_.  You’ve been my constant support, always believing in me, always encouraging me, ever since you came back with that bean that got us to Neverland.  There will never be enough words to tell you how much I love you for that; all of it.

Killian, you are my true love, my soulmate, literally the other half of my heart, and if there’s anything watching you die taught me, it’s that I never, ever want to be parted from you again. So, I vow to you, here in front of our family that I will love you and honor you forever.  I will support you and do my best to be the best wife a guy could have.  I’ll be your partner and your advocate, and the one who knocks sense back into you when you’re being an idiot.”

(Liam actually snorted at that one.)

“I vow to be at your side in good times and bad and everything in between. I vow to stand beside you no matter what villain or curse or evil, I don’t know, _hex_ comes our way.  I am yours forever, just as I know you are mine.”

“I am, Swan,” he murmured, voice thickened with emotion.

“Lovely, Emma,” Liam said. “Killian?”

Killian smiled gently. “Emma, for centuries I languished in a prison of pain, of heartbreak, of darkness.  There was but one course I could foresee my life taking: I would achieve my vengeance and then I would perish.  My life was devoid of joy, of color, of all that makes life worth living.  I’d abandoned my principles, abandoned the man I’d wanted to be, turned into the worst of villains.  That is until a blonde, avenging angel pulled me out from a pile of corpses.  Quite literally.”

She grinned.

“Though I’d yet to realize it, my entire world changed that day. The sun was brighter, colors more vibrant.  For the first time in centuries I realized that perhaps there was the possibility of life after vengeance.  Emma you healed me.  You healed me of the hate, of the anger, of the pain.  Your love inspired me to be the best, most heroic version of myself,   You didn’t merely bring back my joy, love, you brought back my honor.  You gave me a family, a son and a future brighter and more extraordinary than any I could have imagined.

“For all of that, and for so much more, I love you, Emma Swan, to the very depths of my soul and I always will. I vow to you I will never willingly leave you.  I will never betray you.  I will stand by your side in all things.  I will defend you, your lad and any children we might conceive with my very life.  I will support you and encourage you regardless of the future we have to face. You, my love, will never be second to anyone or anything.  You, yourself are enough, more than enough.  I vow to you that all I have, all I am, is yours, for all of eternity.”

One single tear tracked its way down his beloved’s cheek, and Killian smiled tenderly, dropping her hand long enough to catch the drop on his thumb and wipe it away, and then he took her hand once more.

Liam waited for a heartbeat and then continued the ceremony. “Emma and Killian, you have pledged your troth.  All that remains is the exchange of rings.”

Emma looked chagrined for a moment, and Killian shot her a questioning look. “It’s just,” she started, “well, I mean, I didn’t really have time to go ring shopping before we came down here, and for something so important, I don’t want to just…magic it up.”

Killian smiled. “It matters not, my Emma.  I’ve no need of a ring to remind me of the vows I’ve made to you.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but I do plan to get you a ring. As soon as we get back to Storybrooke.”

“Until then,” Liam prompted, “Killian, do you have a ring to give your wife?”

_My wife!_ Never had two syllables sounded so perfect.  He nodded, taking the chain Emma had restored to him upon his return to the living. 

“Emma, I once offered you this ring—which belonged to my brother and my mother before him—as merely a good luck charm, a symbol of protection.. Now I offer it to you again as a token of my love.  With this ring, I thee wed.”

With a gentle hand, he slid the ring home, pleased to find it fit perfectly on her finger.

Liam waited only until Killian clasped her hand once more before speaking the words Killian had been longing to hear for more months than he could count. “By the power vested in my by the King’s Royal Navy, I now pronounce you man and wife.  Little brother, you may now kiss your bride.”

“Younger brother,” Killian growled.

“Are you going to quibble over semantics,” Liam asked with a grin, “or are you going to kiss that lovely sister-in-law of mine?”

“The latter,” Killian said, eyes dropping to her lips. “Most certainly the latter.”

And with no more ceremony, he took Emma into his arms, felt her bouquet tickle his neck as she wrapped her own arms around him, and bent to seal their union with a kiss. Conscious of their audience, Killian kept it light and gentle, contenting himself with little more than a peck to her lips.

“That all ya got, pirate?” Emma whispered as he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

“Call that the barest preview of things to come,” Killian whispered back, wiggling his brows in an exaggerated manner that prompted her to laugh against his lips. “Later, when we find ourselves alone…well, that’s when the fun _really_ begins.”

“Alright you two,” Brennan Jones said, laughter evident in his voice. “Save it for the honeymoon…or really anytime sons and fathers and brothers aren’t present.”

Emma laughed again, pulling away from Killian long enough to hug her son… _their_ son!...and then his father and brother.  “Thanks for being here,” she said.  “I know how much it meant to Killian, and it meant a lot to me as well.”

Liam bent over her hand, almost, but not quite letting his lips touch (ever the proper gentleman). He spoke to Emma, but his blue eyes trained on Killian.  “It wasn’t something I’d have missed for an admiralty, Sister.”

Congratulations went around…with much laughter and back slapping, but all things, even the most beautiful must come to an end. As the sun slowly began to sink below the horizon, the bright, white door leading to Elysium glowed stronger than ever.  Killian didn’t need Liam or his father to tell him; he knew it was time for them to pass on.

Killian hugged his father then fairly clung to his beloved brother, the bittersweetness of the moment hitting him hard. “Live your life, brother,” Liam said with a smile when the Jones brothers finally parted.  “Enjoy the time you have with your wife, your son.  Father and I will be waiting to welcome you when your time comes to join us.”

And with that, Killian stepped back into Emma’s waiting arms, and watched as Liam and Brennan Jones walked through the glowing door, their exclamations of delight the last thing he heard before the door faded and then disappeared altogether.

“Killian?” Emma asked, reaching up to cup his face, “are you al…”

But her words were cut off by the sound of someone running through the fallen leaves, making a mad dash by the sound of it. He instinctively reached for his sword, but dropped his hand when he recognized the newcomers.

“We have no time to waste!” Snow White said breathlessly.

“We don’t have two weeks to make our move on Hades,” Charming added, as the rest of the band of heroes—Regina, Robin, Hercules and Megara stopped before them. “We might not even have two hours!”

 

_Notes:_

_\--Figures even CS’s wedding day can’t be crisis free, right? Lol. At any rate, I was going for fluffy and super-romantic with the wedding, so I hope I succeeded.  Musically speaking, I really wanted to go with Pachelbel’s Canon in D for the music when Emma walks down the aisle, (because I can tell you from my experience as a wedding musician, nearly_ everyone _chooses that for somewhere in the whole procession process!), but then I remembered Saint-Saens’ The Swan, and it just had to be used! It’s a beautiful piece; look it up on YouTube if you’ve never heard it!_

_\--We’re heading into the home stretch now; only about six chapters to go, so I’m anticipating the next chapter to be filled with much more action and far fewer “quiet moments”._

_\--Up next: We find out exactly how Snowing and company learned about their imminent danger (as well as their reactions when they learn about the impromptu wedding!).  Now they know what’s going on, but will they be able to get to the lake by the cemetery before it’s too late and Rumple and Hades put their plan into motion?_


	26. Chapter 26

“We don’t have two weeks! We may not even have two hours.”

Emma sighed loudly and buried her face in her husband’s shoulder for a moment, breathing him in and praying she’d turn around, and the newest crisis would be a figment of her imagination.

No such luck.

When she turned back around, her hand still laced with Killian’s, she was met with six pairs of grim, panicked eyes.

“Are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath. “The craziness can’t even leave us alone on our _wedding_ day?”

“Your _what_?” David thundered, eyeing Killian with more than a little hostility.  “You married my daughter without talking to me first, pirate?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “We were a bit pressed for time, mate, and I was laboring under the impression that your daughter is capable of making decisions for herself.”

“Yeah, I am,” Emma said shooting her father an exasperated look. “We’re not living in the dark ages, Dad.  I don’t need permission to marry my true love.”

David had the grace to look slightly shamefaced.

But it was Snow’s reaction that really cut Emma as she took in Emma’s simple white dress, her bouquet. There was a lifetime of pain in her mother’s expression.  “Emma?  You got married without us?  Your father and I have missed out on so much of your life, I…I was hoping I’d at least have that day with you—helping you plan, helping you get ready, all the typical mother-of-the-bride stuff.”

Emma rushed to her mother and enveloped her in a hug. “And I absolutely wanted you to do all of that stuff with me, mom,” she said, her voice wavering.  It still hit her hard sometimes hearing how much her parents loved her, how _wanted_ she’d always been.  “Killian and I didn’t do this to cut you out, it was just a spur of the moment thing so that his dad and brother could see him get married.”

Snow looked marginally better hearing that. She pulled back, looking curiously around the clearing.  “So you found them?  You found Killian’s family?  Where are they?”

Killian stepped up beside them. “They’ve gone into the light,” he said.  “They were able to remain with us long enough to witness our nuptials, but afterwards, the pull to the peace of Elysium was too strong to be resisted.”

Snow White shot her new son-in-law a sympathetic look and gave him a motherly pat on the arm. “You okay?”

Emma felt emotion well up at the surprise and pleasure in her husband’s face. “Aye, milady.  I’ve lived with the pain of their loss for many a century.  There is a good deal of peace in seeing them go to a better place where they’ll wait for me when my turn comes.”

“Which will be many, many, many years from now, if I have anything to do with it!” Emma said fiercely.

“Just so,” he agreed, stooping down to kiss the top of her head affectionately.

Emma smiled up at him, taking a moment to caress his stubbled cheek before turning back toward her mother.

“And just so you and dad know,” she said, “we _do_ want you involved in our wedding.  We were hoping to do this again—you know, have a big formal wedding, the dress, the cake, the reception, the whole nine yards, once we get back to Storybrooke and things calm down.  And let me tell you, when it comes to that, I’ll need all the help you can give me.”

“Really?” Snow asked, looking back and forth between Emma and Killian. “You really want to have another wedding with all the pomp and circumstance?”

“We wouldn’t miss it, your majesty,” Killian said.

David stepped up to his wife, putting his arm around her waist. “You know, Snow, it kind of sounds like another couple I know of who had Lancelot marry them in a forest clearing so that the guy’s mom could witness the wedding before she passed on.  They had a big formal wedding as well afterwards.”

Snow smiled. “Let’s just hope no Evil Queens show up and threaten to curse an entire realm at the end of Emma and Killian’s formal ceremony.”

In the background, Regina snorted inelegantly. “You crash one wedding breathing threats and murder, and suddenly you’re always remembered as the one who destroys happiness.”

Robin leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’ve no need to worry, my love; we all know the extent to which you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, we do,” Snow reassured.

A masculine throat clearing broke the ensuing silence.

“While I appreciate the moment of family bonding,” Hercules said, “perhaps now is not the time. Have you forgotten the very precarious position we find ourselves in?”

“About that,” Henry piped up, “what happened with you guys after you left the house this morning?”

Charming’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “We’d no more than left the house before we realized our best bet would likely be to split up.”

“You see,” Snow continued, “Regina was very eager to find her father and help him into the light, given her…role…in him being down here. I wanted to try to make amends to Cora, but I was quickly shouted down.”

Regina rolled her eyes, though the slight upturn of her lips betrayed her lack of annoyance. “No one _shouted_.  We just spoke, um, forcefully, trying to bring you to your senses.  My mother is not exactly one to forgive and forget.”

“Yes, well in any case,” Snow continued, “we decided that we’d be best off keeping an eye on _both_ Hades _and_ Rumple.  That being the case, Charming and I offered to track Rumple and see what he was up to while Hercules and Meg spied on Hades.”

“How’d you find Grandpa Rumple?” Henry asked.

Snow White reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Seems Rumple dropped this when he last came to visit us at the loft.  Regina put a tracking spell on it.”

“Okay,” Emma said, brows furrowed, “but I’m still confused. How did you guys manage to get close enough to the villains to learn their plans?”

“Simple invisibility spell was all it took,” Regina said, waving her hand and rendering Robin temporarily invisible.

Emma took a deep breath, not sure she wanted an answer to her next question. “So what did you guys learn.”

“Rumple and Hades have plans to double cross us,” Charming said. “Big surprise there.”

“Figures,” Emma muttered.

“Meg and I managed to gain entrance to Hades’ mansion by slipping in as Henry—Regina’s father—stormed out. Given the man’s absence, I assume your mission was successful, your majesty?”

Regina smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Yes.  We were able to make peace, forgive each other—although he certainly had more to forgive than I did since I, you know, killed him.  He made his way to Elysium, and then Robin and I waited for the others to return to our prearranged meeting place.”

“Oh, Regina!” Snow White cried, “I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, well,” Meg said grimly, “the queen’s mission may have had a happy ending, but ours certainly didn’t. We got to Hades’ study undetected because of the whole invisibility thing.  At first, Hades was alone, and I was starting to wonder how we’d manage to gain any intel, but then his fools of servants came in.”

“Pain and Panic?” Killian asked.

“The very same,” Hercules agreed. “After a few minutes of conversation, their whole plan was laid out before us.  We were able to learn the whole thing, though there was a moment or two when I feared we’d be discovered thanks to a couple of inopportune gasps.”

“Well?” Emma asked, “what is this ‘whole thing’ you learned?”

“Rumple and Hades have devised a plan to steal the life forces of those of you who have ventured to the Underworld as living beings. They then plan to return to the land of the living, along with a select band of villains, where they can amass enough power for Hades to successfully challenge his brother and, in essence, take over all of the known universe, seen and unseen.”

Killian gasped. “But how do they propose to do this?  Opening a portal is quite the undertaking.”

“It seems they have found a loophole,” Hercules said. “Apparently the separation between worlds is much more…penetrable…during the blue moon, which happens to be tonight.  We’ve only got until moon-rise to prevent this.”

Emma cursed under her breath, beginning to pace. Finally she stopped, turning back to the rest of the group.  “Alright, so what do we do?  How do we stop Gold and Hades?”

Hercules grimaced, took a deep breath, let it out on a sigh and then stepped forward. “There’s really only one thing to be done.  You have to return to the land of the living before my uncle is able to carry out his plan.  You can take advantage of the blue moon as well as they can.  It will be a simple matter of you going through the portal before they’re able to put their plan into motion.  As a god myself, I should have sufficient power to open the portal for you even if the moon has not yet reached its zenith.”

“But your plan to defeat your uncle,” Charming protested.   “We can’t leave you to face him on your own!”

“I must agree with the prince, mate,” Killian said, “particularly when the true love between my wife and myself may very well be a key to his destruction.”

Hercules shrugged. “It can’t be helped.  If we don’t do this, all of you will be trapped here forever.  As to the True Love prophecy, perhaps you’ve already played your roll by breaking the curse.  If worse comes to worst, I’ll follow my uncle to your world, and you can lend your assistance on your own home turf.”

Emma felt distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of leaving Hercules to clean up the mess on his own, and from the looks on everyone’s faces, she was not alone. Still, there was nothing to be gained from being trapped in the Underworld; they couldn’t exactly defeat Hades in the above world that way.

“I don’t like it,” Emma said, finally taking charge, “but like you said, Hercules, it looks like our only option at the moment. I promise you, though, that as soon as we get home, every one of us is going to work tirelessly to try to come up with a way to help you.”

“Much appreciated,” he said with a smile. “Now, best we head toward the lake before our small window of opportunity evaporates.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Given the gravity of the situation, it was decided there was no time to waste in getting back to the lake. Instructing the others to take hold, Emma and Regina poofed the whole lot of them to their intended destination just as the shadows were starting to lengthen.

Killian looked around anxiously and then slowly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d half expected Hades and the bloody Crocodile to be lying in wait for them, but the lake and it’s surrounding area seemed to be deserted—almost eerily so.  Not so much a ripple passed over the smooth surface of the water.

It was strangely unsettling, and a vague premonition of unease passed through him. He’d been a sailor long enough to know never to discount said premonitions.  They’d best create the portal, get home, and be quick about it.  If they didn’t proceed with utmost haste…well, he didn’t know what would transpire, but it would not be good.

“Killian?” Emma asked, placing a warm, comforting hand on his chest against his half of their heart. “What’s the matter?”

He smiled at her, reveling in the fact they were so attuned now that she knew when he was uneasy almost before he did. “Nothing concrete, my love,” he said, turning to stare out at the lake.  “I’ve merely a feeling our window of opportunity is rapidly dwindling.  We’d best get to it.”

“For once, I agree with Captain Guyliner,” Regina said, tossing him an affectionate smile along with the _bon mot_.  “This has been fun and everything, but if it’s all the same to you, Robin and I would like to get home to our children.”

Hercules smiled. “And I’m more than ready to restore Meg to the land of the living.”

The lady in question shot him a shocked look. “What?  You expect to send me back while you stay down here by yourself?  Fat chance of that!  I just found you again; I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Hercules took her hands in his. “Darling, it’s not goodbye,” He said quietly.  “It’s only a small separation.  I’ll return to the land of the living in a short two weeks’ time.  It will give you time to get used to our new world, come up with a plan to help me defeat my uncle once and for all.”

Meg looked stubborn for another moment, and then her face fell. “And if something goes wrong?  If you end up trapped down here?  I _can’t_ lose you again!”

“It _won’t_ go wrong,” Hercules said firmly.  “We must have faith Meg!  We will prevail.”

She looked up, holding his gaze for long moments before standing on her tip-toes and kissing him as though the very world was coming to an end. Hercules sank into the kiss, returning it in equal measure before pulling back.

“Fine,” she said finally, “just…be careful. I’ll be up above coming up with a plan to kick Hades’ ass from here all the way to the ninth ring of hell so I’ll be ready as soon as you show up.”

“That’s my love,” Hercules said with another kiss.

Killian looked around, noticed how very dark it had become, the sun only moments from sinking below the horizon. “While I can certainly appreciate the agony of parting with the one you love, I must insist we proceed with all haste.  We’ve little more than minutes before we’re thwarted.”

Hercules nodded, pecked Meg once more on the lips, and then walked confidently toward the lake. He’d taken four steps, when suddenly he flew backwards, landing on his arse.

“What the hell?” Regina asked, stepping cautiously forward. She reached out her hand and a buzzing sound, much like the electricity which powered Swan’s world, rang out over the clearing. 

“What is going _on_ here?” Emma asked.

“It’s quite simple, Dearie,” came the last voice Killian ever wanted to hear again. “We suspected you might attempt a daring escape and took measures to ensure that couldn’t happen.”

Killian whipped around, hand going to his sword, and his heart dropped.

It was worse than he’d feared.

Not only had the Crocodile found them, he was accompanied by no less than Hades, Cora, Pan, Cruella, Nimue, the blind witch, and a man who could be none other than David’s twin.

“Son of a bitch,” Emma muttered behind him, and he heard similar oaths (as well as the drawing of several other weapons) from the remainder of their companions.

“Now is that any way to talk, ‘savior’?” Hades drawled, stepping forward. “Quite the language in front of your son, isn’t it?”

Emma growled. “Yeah, you’re gonna get a lot more than language if you try to lay a _finger_ on any of my loved ones, buddy!”

“Ooo,” Hades said, mimicking fear. “The thing is, sweetheart, you can rail and insult and threaten all you want, but we both know there’s nothing you can do against the god of the dead, the Dark One, and a half-dozen villains who can no longer be killed.”

“Maybe not,” Regina said, stepping up next to Emma, “but we can put up a hell of a fight before you take us down. I’m willing to bet I can do some serious, quality damage that’ll make you rue the day you took me on!  Now answer the question.  What _is_ that force field surrounding the lake?”

“Oh come now, Darling,” Cruella said in a bored voice, “surely even _you_ aren’t so daft.  It’s _magic_ of course.  Meant to keep out any who have living breath in their bodies.”

“And ensuring we not only have the opportunity to regain our own lives, but the chance to get our revenge as well,” James said with a grin that was anything but pleasant.

“Over my dead body!” Charming growled, stepping forward, sword in hand.

Cruella rolled her eyes. “Well that is, after all, the point, Chiseled Chin.”

“Enough of this!” Robin yelled, letting an arrow fly. It hit home, going straight through Hades’ chest where his heart should be. 

The weapon didn’t even seem to faze him, but it _was_ the spark that set the group of heroes on fire, each wielding their own weapons to greatest advantage.

But like with Hades, nothing they threw at their adversaries seemed to make a difference. Finally, Hades sighed, raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist pulled Swan’s lad to stand before him and Rumple.

“Henry!” Emma and Regina yelled in unison, instinctively dropping their fireballs.

“Relax, Dearies,” Rumple said lazily. “I have no intention of harming my grandson.  That is, of course, unless you give me no other choice.”

“Drop your weapons,” Pan said, “The moment any one of you makes a move to stand in our way, Henry will pray for death before we’re done with him.”

Killian looked at the raw, naked fear in Henry’s eyes, and felt his own fear for the lad blossom. Not a one of the lot standing before him would object to torturing the lad should it be their only opportunity to obtain their aims.  Seeing that they were well and truly trapped, he did as the demon demanded and dropped his sword and then unscrewed and tossed away his hook.  Around him, Henry’s other assorted family members did the same.

“Now,” Hades said, “this is how it’s gonna go. Each of my associates here handpicked a hero of their very own.  They walk through you, they get your life force, they come with me to the land of the living where I can finally get what’s owed to me, and you…well, you’re trapped down here for eternity.”

Snow looked around. “I think you miscounted,” she said in a hard voice.  “Excluding Hercules and Meg, there are seven of us.  You only have six villains lined up for the task.”

“Oh that,” Rumple said with a nasty smile. “Did we forget to mention that Henry will be coming with us?  I’ve no intention of leaving my grandson, my only surviving link to Bae to rot in hell.”

“Over my dead body!” Regina shouted.

“Haven’t you been _listening_?” the blind witch said on a sigh.  “Of course it will be over your dead body.  That’s, after all the point.”

Henry struggled, almost freeing himself at one point, before the Crocodile got a firmer grip on him. “You’ll never succeed,” the lad shouted! “Even if you get back to Storybrooke I won’t cooperate!  I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done!  I’ll find a way to get my family back!”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Henry,” the Crocodile said, and with that, he waved his hand, and Henry slumped to the ground, eyes closed.

Emma surged forward, and likely would have attempted to strangle Rumple with her bare hands had Killian not caught her in his arms and held her back. “No!” Killian muttered, “we can’t chance they’ll make good on their threats!”

“What have you done to him, you son of a bitch!” Emma screamed, still struggling against her husband’s arms.

“Nothing worth all the dramatics,” Rumple drawled. “I merely wiped his mind.  Such actions inevitably result in fatigue.  When he wakes, to the best of his memory, I was the hero.  The pirate, as it turns out, was still infected with the darkness and plotted to kill us all.  I valiantly struggled against him, trying to save everyone, but in the end I was only able to save the lad and myself.”

Killian heard Robin curse under his breath behind him. Did the Crocodile’s perfidy truly know no bounds?

“In that way,” Rumple continued. “I’ve killed two birds with one stone.  I return the hero, and I’ve neutralized the threat of every living soul who can destroy my relationship with my wife.”

“Any living soul who can remind her what a lying, manipulating bastard you are, you mean!” Charming growled.

Rumple shrugged. “Call it what you will.  It no longer matters.  Unless you prefer I hand young Henry off to my associates to torture into madness you will stand back and allow us to proceed.”

Standing back, accepting their fate, allowing a band of villains to destroy his wife, and those he’d come to accept as his family went against everything Killian believed in, but while Swan’s lad’s life was in danger, there was truly no other choice.

Seeing they’d won, the villains whooped in triumph, each standing before their chosen victim—Cruella before Swan, James before David, Cora before Snow, the blind witch before Regina, Pan before Robin and Nimue before Killian himself.

“Well it’s been fun,” Hades drawled, “but it’s time for us to go. Get to it, guys.”

Killian felt a curious, cold sensation as Nimue walked through him. As soon as the deed was done, he knew it had succeeded.  He felt strangely muted, as though every one of his senses was dulled.  This was death.

As soon as the villains had gained their new life, Hades dropped the human shield with a wave of his hand. The blue moon was rising quickly, already high in the sky.  Killian had noticed how quickly night always fell in this accursed realm.  As soon as the moon had reached its peak, its bright glow reflecting off the lake, a whirlpool formed, the lights and magic proving it an obvious portal.

One by one, the villains jumped through, Rumple carrying Henry in his arms. Soon only Hades remained.

“What are you waiting for?” Hercules fumed. “You’ve gotten all you wanted!  At least for now.”

“Not quite,” Hades said, eyeing Meg malevolently. “I’ve got one thing left to do before I head out.”

And with that, he waved his hand, and Meg convulsed, falling to the ground. In the space of a heartbeat, her spirit slowly drained from her, stopping for a moment in the air above her before disintegrating.

“That’ll teach ya to break a deal with me!” Hades spat before looking over the rest of the group with a delighted smile. “Well, this is it!  See ya…never!”

With no more ado, Hades jumped into the void which closed around him and then disappeared before their eyes.

_Notes:_

_\--I FINALLY finished another chapter. It seems like it’s taking me forever on updates for this story.  I am bound and determined, though, to finish the fic before the end of the OUAT season.  Toward that end, I’ve set up a posting schedule for myself:  I’ll post every Wednesday and Saturday.  In that way, I should post the last chapter on the day before the season finale._

_\--So things are obviously not looking so great for the heroes here at the end of the chapter. It LOOKS like the bad guys have won and they’ve lost every possibility of stopping them.  But you know how it goes.  Things always look darkest just before the dawn.  (Besides that…I did give you several episodes in a row of basically unmarred happiness.  It was about time for something bad to happen!)_

_\--Up next: In the UW, the gang is really upset about what happened (particularly Emma and Regina, given the fact that Henry’s in Rumple’s clutches). They try to brainstorm their next move, and eventually retire for the night.  In real Storybrooke, Belle warmly welcomes Rumple and Henry home, sad about the loss of their friends, but relieved that he made it back.  After they settle back in, Belle has some rather momentous information for Rumple.  Information that he soon realizes could be really, really bad._


	27. Chapter 27

_Underworld, present day_

“No!”  Emma screamed, and then crumpled to the ground as though her legs could no longer hold her.  The agonized, heartbroken sound tore through Killian, and for  a moment he closed his eyes, fervently wishing the last half an hour had been nothing but a bloody nightmare.

But this was no nightmare.  This was their new reality.  A reality he would move heaven and hell and everything in between to change.  The bloody Crocodile would _not_ get away with tearing another of his families apart.  He would get his new son back, and he would see to it that justice was served against the perpetrators.

Justice this time, not vengeance. 

But plans for escape, a retrieval of their lives, rescue of the boy and the taking down of the villains must wait.  Now his prime, and really only, priority was comforting his distraught wife.

He was vaguely aware of the action around him—Charming holding Snow, kissing her forehead; Regina pacing like a caged tiger, muttering threats and curses under her breath; Robin standing by helplessly, insisting they _would_ get Henry back, they _would_ save their lives; Hercules kneeling beside Meg, who was starting to rouse—but his eyes were only for Emma.

She was kneeling in the grass, sitting back on her heels, her arms around herself, rocking gently back and forth, the tears streaming from her eyes.  Helplessly, he got to his knees, wrapping his arms around her, letting her tears soak through his thin shirt.

After a moment, her tears stopped, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face in the crook of his neck.

“I failed, Killian,” she said in a broken voice that ripped through his heart.  “My fault.  I’m the savior but I can’t save _anyone_.”

Killian pulled back, frowning.  With a gentle hand, he tilted her chin up until she was looking at him.  “What nonsense are you spouting, Swan?”

“Jones now, remember?” she said with a weak smile.

His heart turned over at the reminder of their nuptials.  He grinned.  “Of course I remember, darling, but I think I shall always think of you as my Swan, my fierce, beautiful Swan.  Now, no obfuscating.  Answer the question.”

Emma dropped her eyes again, absently pulling up blades of grass beneath her.  “I should have never, _never_ let everyone come down here with me!  I should have come on my own to save you Killian!  Because I appreciated everyone’s offers of help so damn much, I let them run headlong into mortal danger.  Just for me!  Even my son!  What kind of a mother _am_ I, letting a fourteen-year-old come to _hell_ with me?”

The others had clearly heard Emma’s outburst, and Snow and Charming dropped immediately to Emma’s side.

“Oh Emma!” Mary Margaret cried, taking her daughter into her arms, “you didn’t force any of us.  We _wanted_ to come!  We _wanted_ to be at your side!  True Love is worth fighting for, and if there was any way to restore yours to you, there’s no place we’d rather be than right beside you!”

David took his turn hugging Emma.  “Your mother’s right.  You and your brother are the most precious, the most important people in the world for us, and as long as I have breath left in my body I will _always_ fight to protect you, to help you.”

Even Regina stopped her pacing for a moment to shoot an annoyed look at Emma.  “And, I think we all know there’s not a chance I’d be here unless I wanted to be.”

“As for the lad,” Robin added, “you heard him yourself, Mrs. Jones.  He was determined to save the life of the man who’d become something of a father to him.  Had you prevented him, he’d have found a way to come on his own.”

Killian’s heart swelled at the love this odd, unconventional family lavished freely upon his wife.  The lost girl had finally found her way home.  Reclaiming her from her father, he pressed a small, chaste kiss against her lips.  “My love, if any should feel guilt for our predicament, it’s me.  If it were not for my death, none of you would be in such a precarious position.”

“Killian, that’s not true!  That’s…”

He stopped her with a finger to her lips.  “I know Emma.  They came because of their care for me as well as their concern for you.  Though I might still struggle with feelings of unworthiness, I’ve come to realize I have a family, friends who love me.”

“And might I suggest,” Hercules, said stepping up to the small group, Meg heavily supported on his arm, “that if we’re placing blame at all, we place it where it truly belongs—with Hades and Rumplestiltskin?”

“Sounds good to me,” Emma said, reaching up to wipe at her damp cheeks, “but we’ve got some serious problems here.  Henry for one.  Even if…no _when_ …we get out of here, there’s still the problem of his mind-wipe.  His head will be full of all the absolute crap Rumple’s feeding him.  How do we get Henry, _our_ Henry back?  As just about all of us know from personal experience, True Love’s Kiss doesn’t work on those with amnesia.”

“Perhaps I might be of assistance.”

All eight of them whipped around at the sound of the new voice.  Killian’s hand went instinctively for his sword, but he dropped it again at his side when he caught a glimpse of their visitor.

The sorcerer’s apprentice.  He stood there as stoic and still as ever, his long, red robes falling to the ground around him, his bushy beard blowing in the breeze.

Emma got to her feet, rushing to the apprentice’s side.  “You can?” she asked.  “You can…get us out of here?  You can get Henry’s memories back?”

“As to the first,” the apprentice said gravely, “I’m afraid not.  None are so powerful but gods themselves.  As to the second, however, I believe I can be of more help.”

“Really?” Regina asked, stepping forward, “how?

The apprentice reached into his robes and pulled out a fountain pen.

“You’re…going to _write_ his memories back, mate?” Killian asked.

“Not me,” the apprentice said with a chuckle, “none but the author can wield this pen.”

“So…” Emma asked, “Henry’s supposed to…write his memories back?  How exactly is he supposed to do that when he can’t possibly remember what there is to write about?”

The apprentice turned toward Emma.  “Being the author is far more than just a job.  It’s a vocation, a lifestyle.  Once one takes on the calling it’s in his blood.  He can no more stop writing than he can stop breathing.  And the story…the story rather presents itself to him.  He does not create it; it flows through him.”

“So,” Robin said, “if we were to return the quill to the lad, he could write our latest adventure, and thus regain his true memories of the events that transpired?”

“Precisely.”

Killian felt Emma’s relieved breath against his arm.  “Well, at least that’s one problem we have a solution to.  I know you said you can’t help us with the whole ‘coming back to life’ thing, but do you have any suggestions for us?  _Any_ at all?”

The apprentice shook his shaggy head.  “I’m afraid not, but if it’s any consolation, I sense you will be ultimately successful at your quest.”

And with that, the man poofed away as quickly as he’d come.

“So,” Regina began, resuming her pacing, “we have a way to bring Henry back, and apparently we’ll be successful at getting out of here.  Anyone have any bright ideas how we might actually _accomplish_ that success?”

They talked for more than an hour, tossing out ideas and suggestions, each more ridiculous than the last.  Frustration set in, prompting them to snap and snarl at each other, and still no solution was discovered.

“Look,” Charming finally said on a sigh, raking a hand through his wheat-colored hair, “it’s been a long day, we’re all tired and we’re clearly not going to solve this tonight.  Let’s just sleep on it and try again in the morning when we’re fresh and rested.”

“Sounds like a plan, mate,” Killian said, lacing his fingers with his wife’s.  “Shall we retire to the house by the sea and take our rest.”

“No, Killian,” Snow said, stepping up and placing a hand on his arm.

“Pardon, my lady?”

“I said no,” Snow said with a small smile.  “You and Emma go on; the rest of us can stay at the loft.  Now that the villains are gone, it should be safe to return.”

“But, um…why, mom?” Emma asked.

Snow shot her a mischievous look.  “Well, Emma, it is, after all, your wedding night.  Given the fact you already have a son, I was hoping I didn’t have to explain it to you.”

“Snow!” “Mom!”  Emma and her father shouted in identical, horrified voices.

Snow’s smile turned tender, motherly, and she patted Emma’s cheek.  “Honey,” she said, “you and your new husband need and deserve a little privacy as you embark on married life.  Even if all you do is lay in each other’s arms, lending each other comfort.  You need this time to yourself.”

Emma hugged her mother.  “Thanks, mom,” she said.  “We’ll meet you at the loft bright and early in the morning, okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Snow answered.

“And should…something besides sleeping take place,” David said with a grimace, “just know that I do not want a single detail.”

“Ew, Dad!” Emma said.  “I think I can safely promise you that those are the kind of details I’ll _never_ share with you and mom.”

An appreciative chuckle went around the group, before the others turned and started for the loft.

Killian held out his arm.  “Shall we love?”

A small tinge of pink was barely visible on her lovely cheeks in the pale light of the full moon.  After a moment, she took his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder.  “Yeah, let’s go get some rest.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

They returned to the house by the sea in silence, Emma holding tight to her husband’s arm, needing his nearness, needing his comfort, needing to know that even in this terrible situation they were _together_.

It had been a long day, a day of wildly swinging emotions.  From Killian’s farewell with Milah, to his meeting with his father and brother, to their wedding, to…to what just happened with Hades and Rumple at the lake.

Emma felt like she’d experienced the entire gamut of human emotions in that 24-hour period.  But uppermost in her thoughts now was fear.  It clawed at her, tore her apart inside.  That Henry was in the clutches of some of the worst villains out there made the panic almost swallow her whole.

She felt the shaking start, as the fears threatened to take over.

They walked up the stairs and stepped into their bedroom.  Killian flipped on the light, and then turned toward her, concern evident in his eyes.  “Love, you’re shaking.  Are you chilled?”

The tears were threatening, and Emma doubted she could have gotten more than a word or two past the lump in her throat.  She shook her head, stepping forward, burying herself in the warmth of Killian’s embrace.

Killian immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, dropping little kisses against the crown of her head in between soft, words of comfort. 

In that moment, Emma let herself fall; let herself break.  The tears flowed fast and hard, no doubt soaking through Killian’s shirt to his chest below.  But he didn’t seem to mind any of it, merely continuing his embrace, his support, running his hand gently over her back.

Eventually, the worst of the emotion passed, and Emma pulled slightly away, reaching up to wipe away the tears.  “Sorry,” she said, “It’s just...I’m so freaking _done_ with the Underworld!  I’m done with death and pain and separation and villains and all the crap we always have to deal with.”

“I know, love,” he said soothingly.  “And much as I’d like, I can’t promise we’ll ever have complete peace.  I can, however, promise, just as I did at our wedding this afternoon, that you need never fear our separation again.  Now that I’ve found you again, nothing, _nothing_ will tear me away again.”

Emma’s heart swelled.  With every passing day, every passing moment, she loved this man more.  She wouldn’t have thought it possible to love him any more than she had this afternoon when they exchanged their vows, but somehow she did.  Somehow she knew theirs was a love that would only grow and strengthen as the years passed.

She stepped up on her toes, put a hand around the nape of his neck, and brought him down to her.  The kiss was long, slow.  As it went on and on, the passion built in strength and intensity, and Emma pushed the leather coat off Killian’s shoulders as he gently tugged the combs from her hair.  She tugged his shirt free of the waistband of his pants and went to work on the buttons.

With a groan, Killian pulled his mouth free.  Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers for a moment, before pulling back.  “Emma,” he said, in a voice far from steady.  “We don’t have to do this love.  I don’t expect…I know you’re exhausted.  I know you’re worried about your boy.  I know the Underworld is hardly the opportune place.  If you wish to wait to consummate our vows, I’ve no objection to waiting as long as you wish.”

She smiled gently, impossibly loving him even more.  Bringing her hand up, she cupped his cheek, letting her thumb caress the tiny scar below his eye.  “Killian,” she said, “I want this.  I _need_ this.  I need _you_.”

It was true.  She wasn’t one for words, one for speaking her feelings aloud, but her need for her husband was intense.  It wasn’t merely the physical desire.  It was…it was a need after this day from literal hell to feel _alive_ , a need to know in a tangible way that he was there with her, that they were together, that there was still beauty, still _hope_ amid the giant ash heap that their lives had become.  Yeah, the Underworld wasn’t exactly the place she’d envisioned them having their first time together, but now, tonight, it was _right_.

Killian looked closely at her for a moment or two, and then gently smiled.  He knew, he understood.  He’d said from the very beginning that he could read her like a book, and there was no doubt the claim was as true tonight as it had been on the beanstalk.  Turning his head slightly, careful not to break eye contact, Killian placed a gentle kiss against her palm.

“Then, my dearest love,” he said in a low voice that made her shiver in anticipation of things to come, “me you shall have.”

Without further ado, he lowered his head and kissed her with a passion stronger than any she’d yet felt from him.  Gradually, he walked them backwards until the backs of her knees met the soft duvet on the bed.  She let herself fall backwards, arms firmly encircling his neck, pulling him with her.

Killian, broke his mouth free once more, kissing her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth.  He trailed soft kisses to her ear and down the column of her neck.  She tilted her head to the side, giving him more access.  She shivered, as she felt the cool metal of his rings as he gently slid the strap of her sundress down her arm and then kissed the skin he’d exposed.

“I love you.”  Killian murmured it like a mantra in between each soft kiss.

Emma took hold of his head, and brought him back toward her mouth.  “And I love you.  Forever,” she said, before pulling his lips back toward hers for a kiss she felt to her very toes.

And as the night surrounded them, every kiss, every caress, every reverently whispered endearment, every tender, passionate, overwhelming moment of their lovemaking was a renewal of their vows, a renewal of their eternal commitment to each other, a renewal of a True Love so strong even death couldn’t conquer it.

_Storybrooke, present day_

The portal spit them out none too gently.  Rumple heard the annoyed curses of his villainous companions as he got to his feet, dusted himself off, and then looked around, making sure Henry had fared well during the trip.

Or, perhaps it would be best to say as well as possible.  The boy was still unconscious, lying in an awkward heap against the grass on the lake’s edge.  Rumple felt a tiny, momentary stab of conscience, but years, centuries of practice helped him push it to the side in the blink of an eye.  There was nothing to be done about it.  If Rumple was to have his life as he wanted it—his loving wife and grandson at his side, the adoration of the townspeople believing him to be a hero—what he’d done to Henry was an absolute necessity.

And it wasn’t as though Henry would suffer permanent harm.  A memory spell such as the one he’d used on the boy was harmless really.  In a few hours, it would wear off, and Henry would wake.  True, he’d be grief stricken, believing the step-father he’d put so much faith in, had murdered the remainder of his family, but grief faded with time.  With the love and support of Rumple and Belle, the boy would soon heal, and likely be happier than he’d ever been.

“So,” Hades said, breaking into Rumple’s self-reflection, “this is Storybrooke.  Kinda boring, don’t you think.”

Rumple rolled his eyes.  How he longed for the day he could be rid of this ridiculous buffoon.  “You are aware that it is, in fact, the spitting image of your own home of Underbrooke?”

“Yes, yes,” Hades said, with a careless wave of his hand, “but it’s definitely missing something.  It just…doesn’t have the same atmosphere.”

“Of course,” Rumple said, voice heavily laced with sarcasm, “Storybrooke is devoid of the blood-red sky, the constant smell of sulfur.  We’re so deprived up here among the living.”

“Yes, yes, darling,” Cruella said, stepping up to them, “such deprivation.  But it’s not that, we care about.  Now that you’ve brought us back, what do you expect of us?”

Hades looked aside, finger absently tapping his lips, clearly deep in thought.  (Rumple hoped he didn’t hurt himself, as the task was no doubt extremely difficult.)  Finally, Hades smiled and waved his hand carelessly over the group.

A startled murmur passed through the group of villains, and the whole lot of them glanced down at their wrists—now adorned with quite fashionable watches. 

“Here’s the thing,” Hades said, looking over the group.  “You’re all here, because you were such _fabulous_ help to me—both in life and in death.  The number of hapless souls you all sent my direction while you were still alive…impressive!  You’ve earned your reward.  BUT, no way of knowing whether or not I’ll need your help with my whole ‘gain all the power in the known universe so that I can defeat my worthless bastard of a brother’ scheme.  Can’t just let you go on your merry way.”

“We had a deal!” Pan spat.  “You swore to us we’d be free when we returned!”

Hades rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.  “Keep your pants on, Mr. I-Won’t-Grow-Up.  I’m not reneging, just…massaging the deal a little.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed to!” James thundered.

“Uh, actually, you did,” Hades said, waving his hand, placing contracts in each of their hands.  “If you look at that little line there at the end of section B2a, you’ll notice this little gem: ‘Hades [supreme god of the underworld, soon to be supreme god of everything] has the right at any time and for any reason to recall the bearer of this document to his services.’  Haven’t any of you ever learned that reading the fine print is key?”

Rumple felt a small ripple of unease roll through him, thinking of his own contract with the god of the dead.  Had Hades included any fine print there?  Rumple had signed it quickly, barely glancing over the thing, believing Hades to be too big of an imbecile to bother with the finer points of wording.  What if he’d been mistaken?

“So what?” the blind witch asked, “we’re still your minions, is that it?  We’ve merely traded prison in one realm for prison in another?”

Hades rolled his eyes.  “Geez!  What _is_ it with all of you and dramatics?  You’re not _prisoners_!  You’re free to go.  Go cause pain, misery, chaos to your hearts’ content.  When I have need of you, your handy-dandy little watches will poof you to my side.  You do your part, and you can go right back to whatever stealing, cheating, maiming, torturing or killing I pulled you away from.”

The band of villains were clearly none too happy about the arrangement, but as there was nothing to be done about it, they gradually dispersed, grumbling among themselves as they went.

Rumple went to Henry and prepared to poof the two of them to his mansion when Rumple stopped him.  “And just where do you think _you’re_ off to, Dark One?”

Rumple fixed a glare on his companion.  “My grandson and I are going home where I will have the opportunity to see my wife, who I love very much, and who was the entire reason I made this deal in the first place.”

Hades snorted.  “Yeah, I may not know all that much about love, but I’m pretty sure lying to your wife with every syllable you utter isn’t exactly an act of love.”

“The state of my marriage and my relationship with Belle is my business, not yours.”

Hades grinned.  “Whatever you say.  Just thought I’d give you a bit of advice from one married man to another.”

“Was there a point in you stopping me from going home, or were you merely wishing to give me unwanted marital advice?” Rumple asked with a raise of one eyebrow.

“There’s a point,” Hades said, “namely, you gotta fulfill your part of the deal.  You told me if I brought you back and trapped your enemies you’d tell me how to get all the magic I need.  So spill.”

“Patience,” Rumple said with a nasty grin.  “I’ll do my part, but it will be on _my_ terms, not yours.”

The god of the dead didn’t like that, if the height and brilliancy with which his hair-fire flared was any indication.  Good.  Serve the S.O.B. right to squirm for a bit.

“But I can’t be seen cavorting with the worst of the worst villains,” Rumple continued.  “My wife believes me to be reformed, after all.  Give me a day or two to devise a plan where we can both get what we want.”

“I don’t _have_ a day or two!” Hades thundered.  “We’ve only got _two weeks_ before the stars align!  Two weeks before those damn fates told me my stupid nephew would defeat me.  I gotta have supreme power before then.”

“As your nephew is currently _mortal_ and trapped forever in the Underworld, I hardly think that’s the greatest concern,” Rumple said lazily.  “You can afford a few days for me to, shall we say, get reacquainted with my wife.”

For a moment, Hades looked as though he wanted to smite Rumple on the spot, but eventually he calmed, his face settling into a look of sullenness.  “Fine.  Go do your thing, Dark One, but if you double cross me…”

“Yes, yes,” Rumple said with a roll of the eye, “you’ll do something utterly terrible to me, I know.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time my grandson and I get home.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Three hours later, Rumple lay in his bed, Belle sleeping peacefully beside him.  He stared up at his bedroom ceiling, waiting in vain for sleep to overtake him.  Through the years, he’d trained himself to ignore the Dark One in his head—at least enough to sleep peacefully most nights—but tonight was different.

Tonight something was nagging at him, and try as he might, he couldn’t dismiss it.

Belle had been overjoyed when he’d poofed himself into their sitting room…but her joy had quickly turned to concern, noticing both the magic Rumple had used and the cuts and bruises he’d magicked onto himself—not to mention Henry’s current state of unconsciousness.

Rumple had immediately spun a tale of heroism and woe.  He’d arrived in the Underworld with the rest of the heroes and immediately set about to find Killian.  It had taken no small amount of time and effort, but in the end they had prevailed, finding Killian in none other but the mansion of Hades himself.

The band of heroes had, at first, labored under the delusion that Killian was being held against his will, but it soon became apparent that that was not, in fact, the case.  When Killian sacrificed himself at the lake, they had all believed he’d willingly given up the Dark One powers, that those powers had been destroyed once and for all. 

That was not the case.  Not only had Killian retained the darkness, it had grown stronger and more pervasive in his rotten heart.  He might, perhaps have found a way to behave himself for a time back in Storybrooke, hoping that kind of ‘heroism’ would be sufficient to con Miss Swan into giving in to his advances, but nature would always, always win out.

Belle had reacted with dismay, her pure heart having difficulty accepting the idea that her friend could be so terrible.

Rumple pasted on a sufficiently sympathetic expression, and then leaned over to hold her close, as he warned her that there was more, and it was worse than she could imagine.  He’d then proceeded to tell her of Killian’s madness, of his rage at the thought of the heroes coming to rip him away from his power and success within the Underworld, of the moment he finally snapped.  He’d begun ripping out and crushing hearts with a zeal and speed that made Rumple’s head reel.

Rumple had tried his best to stop the out-of-control Dark One, but without his powers, he’d been ultimately unsuccessful.  He’d managed to get away himself and protect Henry as well, but the rest…well, they’d fallen victim to the heartless pirate.

“But,” Rumple concluded, “it seems the universe was pleased with my bravery, my attempts to save our friends.  Magic, _light_ magic, was restored to me.  Now Belle, I’ll be able to protect you and Henry.  We need never fear the villains again.”

Of course, it had saddened Belle, the loss of all their friends and the disenchantment with Killian, the monster she’d believed to be her friend, but he’d been there to comfort her through it.  She’d readily agreed when he suggested they take Henry in.  They were, after all, the only family he had left.

And then Belle had given him some news that turned his world upside down.

“Rumple,” she’d said, taking his hand and smiling up at him.  “You have no idea how happy I am to have you home with me, how happy I am that we can finally start our lives together.  But there’s more to it than me missing you.  You see…a couple of days ago I learned some news.  Some amazing, _wonderful_ news.”

“What’s that, Belle?” he’d asked, smiling down at her in her enthusiasm.

She’d taken a deep breath, freed one of her hands, and placed it protectively over her stomach.  “Rumple, in about eight months’ time, we’re going to have a baby.  I’m pregnant!”

Rumple had been overjoyed, picking Belle up and swinging her around, kissing her, laughing with her.  It looked like everything he’d ever wanted was _finally_ coming to pass.

But now, laying in the quiet, dark room, Rumple couldn’t quell the feeling that something was wrong.  Something would not stop nagging at him.

And then he remembered.  The contract with Hades.  The god of the dead had forced him to sell his child to him before he’d agree to their deal.  But that had referred to Bae, had it not?  Hades had been very clear that Rumple’s _first born_ belonged to him.  As Bae was already safe in Elysium, there was nothing Hades could do to him, right?

“ _Haven’t any of you ever learned that reading the fine print is key?_ ”  Hades words from earlier that day nagged at him.

Finally, it became all too much.  As quietly as possible so as not to disturb his sleeping wife, Rumple got out of bed and padded into the study.  With a wave of his hand, he opened his safe and took out the contract, this time taking the time to read it thoroughly.

It was only when he got to the fine print at the bottom of the last page that he realized his fears had been well founded.

“For the purposes of this document, ‘First Born’ is defined as the first child conceived, brought to term, and born of the True Love of the bearer of this document.”

Rumple’s heart dropped to his very toes.  Belle was his true love.  With his signature on the accursed document in his hands, Rumple had sold his and Belle’s baby to the devil.

 

_Notes:_

_\--So the heroes have at least figured out how to restore Henry’s memories—if they’re ever able to get out of the Underworld and get their lives back.  At least that’s something, right?_

_\--I went back and forth about whether or not Emma and Killian should have a real wedding night with all that implied.  After all, the Underworld isn’t exactly the most romantic place, then there’s the little issue of how incredibly upset and worried Emma is about Henry and everything else that’s going on.  In the end, I decided, though, that maybe a real wedding night was exactly what both Emma and Killian needed.  It would be a way for them to comfort each other and reassure each other that there was still beauty and hope even amid the total mess they found themselves in._

_\--I’d just like to note that my entire outline for this story was written before 5b began.  Belle’s pregnancy—and the fact that Rumple had unwittingly sold the baby to Hades was ALWAYS in my plans.  I just couldn’t resist the delicious irony of having Rumple, the one who constantly makes deals that work out badly for others, would himself be the victim of fine print._

_\--Up next:  In the Underworld, the heroes continue looking for a way to get to the land of the living before it’s too late and Hades takes over the universe.  Meanwhile, Hercules is agonized about the fact that Meg no longer is alive—and there’s no villain she can truly get her life force back from.  He makes a desperate plan to save her.  Back in Storybrooke, Rumple finds a way to meet with Hades without giving his alliance with team!villain away.  He tells Hades what he needs to do to get the magic he needs…and looks for a loophole to be able to save his and Belle’s baby._


	28. Chapter 28

_Storybrooke, present day_

After a sleepless night, Rumple rose with the sun. He got carefully out of the bed so as to not disturb Belle, who slept with a serene smile on her lips.

A smile she only wore because she was unaware he was still deceiving and lying to her. For the space of a heartbeat, Rumple felt something vaguely like remorse pass through him.  For a moment, for just the barest moment, he wished he could be more like Killian, willing to sacrifice anything for the good of the woman he loved.

But as quickly as the thought surfaced, it flitted away. Look where all Killian’s fine heroism got him.  He’d been stabbed through the heart by his true love and died in her arms.  Then, just when it looked like he’d be saved again, his life—and all his hope—had been taken from him.

No, if one wanted real power, he had to take it. None of this self-sacrifice BS all the storybooks preached.

Rumple quickly got dressed in his most sophisticated suit. Hades had sent him a note, via his magic watch,  demanding a meeting at the pawn shop that morning, and Rumple wanted to appear to the best advantage.

It was vital he show this absolute fool of a god that the Dark One was not to be trifled with.  If Hades believed he could get by with tricking Rumple into selling his second-born child, he had another thing coming.

Stepping out into the crisp, cool autumn air, Rumple looked around with satisfaction. Not a soul to be seen this early in the morning.  Good.  The thought of anyone seeing him cavorting with Hades—even secluded in his own pawn shop—was not to be borne.  He must impress upon Hades the importance of keeping their meetings discreet.

The bell over the door chimed as Rumple stepped through his shop door. He flipped on the light switch, and found the god of the dead standing behind the counter perusing the items in his front display case.

“I’d appreciate if you left my merchandise be, Dearie,” Rumple said with a sneer.

Hades turned the tiny model ship over and over in his hands, looking closely at it before negligently tossing it back into the display case. “Merchandise?  That what you call this junk?  Anybody actually _want_ any of this?  I mean, besides the people you stole it from in the first place?”

“The relative success or failure of my business is not your concern.”

Hades chuckled, stepped out from behind the counter and playfully chucked Rumple’s chin. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there Dark One.  So what do you say we get to those things that are my concern.  Namely that source of magic you promised me.”

Rumple smiled nastily. “As to that, perhaps we need to negotiate.”

Hades’ easy going manner vanished in an instant. His hair flamed nearly to the ceiling.  “I don’t negotiate with nasty little insects.  You made me a promise, and I plan to collect.”

“That, dearie, was before I learned you have plans to steal my unborn baby.”

“It was right there in the contract Dim One,” Hades growled. “Not my fault if you can’t read.”

“Here’s the thing, god of the dead,” Rumple said, crossing his arms. “I have something you desperately want, something you, in fact need.  Without my knowledge, you fail at your quest to depose your brother.  I have, what they call ‘leverage’.  I know it’s a hard concept to grasp, but think really, really hard.  I’m sure you’ll eventually figure it out.”

Hades face reddened and a vein in his forehead started pulsing in his rage. Then, abruptly he calmed, took a seat and smiled nastily.  Rumple found it rather unnerving.

“So how’s this for leverage, Dark One?” He said calmly. “That contract entitles me to your child.  I can take him—yeah, your little embryo is a boy; isn’t that nice?  You can finally replace Bae!—whenever the hell I want.  If I were to…say make your precious Belle so sick she miscarries, I can do it.  Should she then…not recover, it’s all part of the deal.  Hell, for that matter, I could even send one of my minions out to kill her outright.  So how’s that ‘keep Hades in the dark’ plan looking to you about now?”

Rumple’s heart dropped. He was trapped.  He was well and truly trapped.  There really wasn’t any way out of this horrific deal, at least not before he’d given Hades the information he wanted.

“The wishing well,” he finally said, sullenly. “In the woods just outside of town, you’ll find a wishing well.  It’s the tether between this world and all the magical realms.  During this fortnight period between the blue moon and the moment the stars align, it will be particularly porous.  All you need do is use it as a conduit, drawing magic through it into your god medallion.  But I warn you, magical transmission of that magnitude takes time.  You must begin the transport immediately if you hope to finish it before the alignment.”

Hades got to his feet, stepped forward and offered his hand (which Rumple pointedly ignored). “Now that wasn’t that hard was it?  Pleasure to do business with you, Dark One.  Might as well go spend time with your unborn baby while you still can!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Belle poured the hot water into two mugs and then added two tea bags to seep. She frowned, looking sightlessly out the kitchen window, feeling so very, very helpless.

Rumple had left that morning before the dawn. When Belle had awoken, turning toward her husband’s side of the bed, hoping to cuddle a bit before the morning sickness hit and she had to sprint to the bathroom, she’d found the sheets cold and empty.

For a moment, her heart dropped, believing the events of yesterday—Rumple coming home to her safe and sound—were a dream, but then she saw the note on Rumple’s pillow.

She perused it, found that Rumple had gone in to the shop early this morning, hoping to get some work done on the inventory. He’d advised her to get as much rest as she needed, and then he’d asked if she would stay with Henry.

That request had done quite a bit to quash Belle’s joy at Rumple’s return. Yes, she’d gotten her happy ending back, but Henry…oh, Henry!  The poor boy must be in _agony_.  She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to watch a man you thought you knew—thought you loved—murder the remainder of your family in cold blood.  How did one even recover from a blow like that?

She’d moved silently around the home, hoping to allow Henry to sleep for as long as possible, hoping at least being well-rested would give her grandson the strength he needed to face the day. Eventually, she’d heard him moving around his room, and she’d tapped silently on the door before opening it.

The sight that met her eyes broke her heart. Henry was up, pacing the room like a caged tiger.  His eyes were red and bloodshot, the occasional tear tracking its way down his cheeks.  He looked as though he was barely holding on.

Belle did the only thing she could think to do. She took him into her arms and held him close.  For a moment Henry cried into her shoulder, the heartbroken sobs of a little boy who’d suddenly been orphaned.

Eventually, Henry had pulled away, scrubbed at his wet cheeks and taken a deep breath, looking every bit as hard and determined as his mother Emma. “I know you’re trying to help, Grandma Belle,” he’d said in a thick voice, “and I really appreciate it, but I…I think I just need to be alone for a little bit.”

She’d given him a concerned look, not at all sure solitude was the best thing for someone who’d endured such a monumental loss, but in the end, she’d merely nodded, assured him that if he needed anything, _anything_ , she’d just be downstairs in the library.

Henry had emerged an hour later, looking calmer than he’d been when he first awoke.

“Grandma,” he’d said as soon as he reached the library, “do you have any blank paper? I…I need to write everything down.”

Belle had looked at him with no small amount of concern. “Henry…are you sure reliving such a…terribly painful moment is a good idea so soon after it happened?  Perhaps you need to give yourself time.”

Henry shook his head, resolute look on his face. “I, can’t explain it,” he said, his voice betraying more than a little frustration at his inability to communicate what he wanted, “it’s just…ever since I became the author I _have_ to write.  It’s like it’s in my blood or something.  I can’t even _process_ what happened until I have it written down.  And…and it just doesn’t make sense!  Any of it!  Killian _gave up_ the darkness!  He had my mom _kill_ him to destroy it!  How could he possibly still have it down in the Underworld?  And…and what he did to mom…that’s just…he’d _never_ hurt her!”  He shrugged.  “Maybe if I just…write it down, somehow I can get over this nagging feeling that something is just not _right_.”

She’d agreed then, seeing how important, how vital this was to Henry. She’d pulled out an entire ream of paper, placed it before Henry, and then announced her intention to make them some tea.

Now, here she stood, tea gently steeping in the cups, and she couldn’t get Henry’s words out of her head. It was weird.  All of it.  Killian had been quite the villain at one point—no one knew that better than she—but everything he’d done had been in the name of love.  That he, even filled with the darkness, would murder the woman he loved in cold blood—it was just utterly unaccountable.

She knew the darkness made a person do things he would normally not do, but…but the Dark One still had _themselves_ within.  To think Killian would just throw away his love and do something so terrible…it didn’t make sense!

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, than another, far more horrible took it’s place. She _only_ had Rumple’s word to go on that things had transpired as he said.  Was it possible that he was…he was _lying_ to her again?  Something about him had felt _off_ last night as they talked.  She’d dismissed it, assuming the trauma of the whole situation had affected him adversely, but, maybe…

Belle compressed her lips into a hard line. No.  She would _not_ immediately jump to believing her husband was lying again.  She had to have faith; had to trust him.  Now that he was no longer under the curse of the darkness, her _real_ Rumple was in command, and she _had_ to believe he would be truthful with her.

After all, if this was just some sort of elaborate ruse on Rumple’s part…what kind of person would be so horrifyingly cruel as to let his own grandson suffer the agony of believing both of his mothers, as well as his other set of grandparents, had been murdered at the hands of the man he’d come to look up to as a step-father? That was lower than even Rumple, at his Dark One worst, would stoop.

Right now, Henry was her priority. She had to find a way to help him heal.  That decision in mind, she picked up the two mugs and made her way back to the library.

Belle expected to find Henry scribbling away at the paper in front of him, but instead found him staring into space, the pen discarded, the paper blank before him.

“Having trouble getting started?” she asked kindly, setting the mug of tea before him.

He turned confused, pain-filled eyes her way. “I don’t understand it.  I have these memories of what happened in my head, but I just _can’t_ write it.”

Belle gave him a quick, side-armed hug. “It was an incredibly traumatic experience Henry,” she said.  “Be patient with yourself.  It only makes sense that it would be so painful that you can’t bring yourself to relive it.”

Henry growled in exasperation. “It’s not that, Grandma!” he sighed deeply.  “It’s not that I’m too emotional or whatever; it’s that…the words just _aren’t_ there.  It’s like I’m trying to write the wrong thing.  Every time I try to start writing about what happened, these…other images keep popping into my mind.  I see Killian giving mom a True Love’s Kiss.  I see my other mom splitting mom’s heart for her and giving half to Killian, and them coming down the stairs of the house by the sea hand in hand and happy.   I see us all—Killian too—working together.”

Belle felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with her pregnancy nausea, as her doubts about her husband came roaring back again.

But once again, she ruthlessly shoved them aside. If this marriage had a prayer of working, she _had_ to trust him.  She had to give him the opportunity to prove himself to her.

“Write what you feel, Henry,” she finally said, once and for all putting aside her fears and suspicions. “Maybe fiction—a version of events you _wished_ had happened is what your mind is telling you you need right now.  Satisfy that urge to write, and maybe one day, when the pain isn’t so fresh, you can write your memories of what actually happened.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Emma woke slowly to the sensation of Killian— _her husband_ —caressing her back, playing with the ends of her hair.  She lay tangled with him beneath the covers of their king-sized bed, her head pillowed on his chest, his springy chest hear tickling her nose.

For a moment, for just one small moment, she let herself indulge in memories of the night before. Their loving had been overwhelming, mind-blowing, explosive—easily the best experience of the kind she’d ever had.

It wasn’t merely the physical sensations, the fact that Killian was an excellent lover—although he certainly knew what he was doing between the sheets—it was so very much more. Like the difference between a black and white film and one in color.  The love she felt for this man, his love for her, the fact that they’d committed their whole lives to each other…all of this made it more and stronger and better than any other amorous adventure she’d _ever_ experienced. 

She hadn’t merely given her body to him—and him to her—they’d both given their entire beings, body, heart, spirit, to each other, and she’d never in her life even imagined it could be possible to feel that close, that connected to another person.

Nor had she ever dreamed being that vulnerable, that open could be so freeing and exhilarating.

Killian must have sensed her waking, because no sooner had she opened her eyes, than he gently flipped them, so she lay on her back and he hovered over her. “Good morning, wife,” he said with a tender smile.

“Morning, husband,” she responded, reaching up to kiss him. He returned the kiss, sighing into it but keeping it deliberately light and gentle. 

Slowly he pulled back and grinned mischievously at her. “Darling, I love you with every fiber of my being, but if you tell me that last night was a one-time thing, I will be inconsolable.”

She rolled her eyes at his nonsense, swatting his shoulder playfully. “You’re never going to let me live that ‘one-time thing’ business down, are you?”

He rolled them again so that they lay on their sides facing each other. He nuzzled his nose against hers before leaning in to kiss her again.  “I might be persuaded to forget the incident, my love, but it will cost you.”

“Yeah?” she asked, grinning. “What’s it going to run me?”

He began trailing kisses behind her ear, down her neck once more. “Perhaps a couple million kisses.  An entire lifetime of nights like the one we just spent.  Forever with the woman I love with everything I have and everything I am.”

She smiled tenderly, pulling his face up for another searing kiss. “I think I could agree to those terms.”

“So we have an accord, my lovely princess?”

“Yep.”

Red-tinted sunlight spilled into their room as Killian leaned in to kiss her again, and the reminder of the dawn brought Emma’s mind back to the crises of the day before. Along with the memory came the rush of anger and sadness and aching fear.

Killian picked up on the change of her mood immediately. His brow furrowed and he gently massaged her scalp.  “What troubles you, love...other than the obvious difficulty of our current situation?”

“It’s just…” she said, “he has him, Killian! Rumple-freaking-stiltskin has Henry.  He has our son!  Who knows what’s happening to him!  Who knows what he’s told him!  Who knows what he’s doing to him!  And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.  I’m _trapped_ here while my son might be in danger.”

Killian leaned forward and kissed her gently before pulling back. “Calm yourself, Swan,” he said soothingly, “we _will_ get back to him and we _will_ save him from the Crocodile’s clutches.  Never doubt that.  In the meantime, our lad is smart and resourceful.  He can deal with the situation.”

“Can he, though?” she asked. “He’s in the hands of the nastiest Dark One there’s ever been—that and the freaking god of the dead!”

“And that Dark One, no matter how loathsome and villainous,” Killian said calmly, “is his grandfather. Remember love; the Crocodile kidnapped Henry because he wanted his son’s only progeny with him.  He _cares_ about Henry, in whatever warped, twisted way he’s able to care for others.  At least we can be assured he will do all in his power to keep the lad safe.”

Emma smiled tremulously and then sat up, looking around for her clothes. “You’re good for me; you know that?”

Killian chuckled, retrieving his own clothing and beginning to dress. “I’ve known that from the day we climbed the beanstalk together, love.  What do you say we head over to your parent’s hell abode and strategize a way to rescue our lad?”

Emma pulled on her jeans and white sweater, and then turned toward him with a smile. “Sounds good to me.  And while we’re at it, why don’t we discuss the best techniques for skinning crocodiles?”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

In the end, as no one had come up with a solution to their problem during the night, the group decided a trip to the library was in order. None had high hopes Hades would keep a book in his library that detailed ways to escape his realm, but at this point anything was worth a shot.

As the others poured over volume after dusty volume, Hercules found his mind wandering. The others, all the others, had hope.  For them, it was merely a matter of finding a way to create a portal back to the land of the living.  Once there, they could find the villain who had taken their life and walk through them to reclaim it.

Not so for his Meg. Hades, himself had taken Meg’s life, and Hercules knew instinctively that there would be no getting it back.  No matter what.  It was gone forever. 

The thought hurt as badly as a knife to the chest. The thought that no matter how successful this group of heroes might be, his true love would be forever trapped in this hell hole…it was not to be borne.  There _had_ to be another way.

And so while the rest looked for ways to create portals, he searched for a way to bring back one whose soul was _gone._

To his knowledge, there was only _one_ way to bring someone back from the dead once their spirit was gone (well, two, but he’d ruled out the heart split right away.  As a god he knew his heart would be incompatible with her mortal body):  A life for a life.  If a living one were to trade places with a dead one, the dead one’s life would be restored.

Hercules would have willingly, _gladly_ made the trade with his Meg, but for one tiny, crucial detail:  He was rumored to be the only one able to defeat Hades.  Were he to walk through Meg, giving her his life, there would be no way to stop his terrible uncle, and that possibility was not to be considered.  The fate of all the known universe depended on Hercules to fulfill his destiny.

It was far into the afternoon when he finally found it—one small sentence that sparked an idea in him. It was a long shot, and it would require no little sacrifice on his part, but knowing that his Meg would be alive and well made it more than worth it.

“When a god swears an oath from the temple of the gods, the oath is binding.”

Within moments, he had a plan in place. He must be covert; it was a sure thing Meg would balk at the plan should she catch wind of it.  But it was his life, his fate, he was considering.  If he had a chance—no matter how slim—to save the woman he loved, he _had_ to take it.

Killian closed the ponderous tome he was reading with a bang and then ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Nothing!  There is not a bloody _thing_ in this entire bloody library that’s of any use to us!”

Snow was at his side in a moment, comforting hand against his back. “Don’t give up Killian!  We have to have hope!  We’ll find something; we always do.”

From Killian’s other side, Emma spoke up, sounding far more defeated than Hercules had ever heard her in the whole of their acquaintance. “No, mom, Killian’s right.  We’ve spent all day here, and we’ve looked through _every_ book that even _remotely_ had anything that could be useful and we haven’t found a thing.  Trust me; I know when a trail is cold.”

No one, evidently, had anything to respond to that, and for a moment the only sound in the library was the ticking of the clock on the wall above the circulation desk. In the end, it was Charming who broke the silence.

“Maybe so,” he said firmly, “but all isn’t yet lost. We had a plan before Gold and Hades double crossed us, and that plan is still usable.”

“What?” Regina asked, crossing her arms, and leaning back in her chair. “You mean take advantage of the magic of the stars aligning and use the lowering of the barriers between worlds to create a portal for ourselves?”

“Excatly,” Charming said.

“But dad!” Emma protested. “The alignment of the stars is still almost _two weeks_ away!  Are you suggesting we just sit on our hands for _two weeks_ while Gold has Henry and Hades is up there doing…only God knows what kind of horrible things?  For all we know, within two weeks, Hades will have enough power to take down Zeus, and we’ll be too late to stop him!”

Killian sighed deeply once again. “Aye, true enough, my love,” he said in a tired, defeated voice, “but your father’s right.  That may be our only option for escape.  By all means, we’d do best to keep an eye out for any new information that might arise, but to my way of thinking, our best strategy now is to use these two weeks to plan our attack once we’ve returned to Storybrooke.”

“And,” Snow said, “we don’t need to just sit on our hands while we’re down here! There’s still a lot of good we can do!  This place is still _full_ of souls with unfinished business.  While we’re waiting for our chance to leave, we can help as many people as we can get to Elysium.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Meg said, taking Hercules’s hand and lacing their fingers. “And not just because it’s the heroic thing to do.  It can also help us prepare for the battle!  The more souls Hercules is able to help to their eternal reward, the more of his god status will be returned and the more prepared he’ll be for the big standoff with Hades!”

And so it was decided. They’d spend their remaining thirteen days in the Underworld training for battle and helping as many souls as possible cross to the other side.

Plan in place, it was decided that the group of heroes would return to the house by the sea for dinner and a further strategy session. (Though their research session had come up empty on ways to open a portal to the land of the living, it had provided them with a useful tidbit: the usual rules about eating in the underworld, didn’t apply to souls who were no longer living.  Eating and drinking would no longer be a problem.)

Knowing that the longer he put it off, the harder it would be to break away and do what he had to do, Hercules excused himself, making an excuse about needing to search his uncle’s mansion for a memento that might help him in his fight. Meg had, of course, offered to accompany him, but he’d waved her off, insisting this was something he had to do alone.

She’d looked more than a little skeptical, but in the end had nodded and let him go without a protest—to his profound relief.

The biggest difficulty with regard to Hercules’ plan was _getting_ to the temple of the gods, as it existed in the land of the living.  But after a moment of thought, Hercules came up with an idea.  Clearly the gods were able to appear at the temple when mortals called on them, but they didn’t appear in person.  That must mean each god had a way to contact and appear in the temple—from their own home.  Where might Hades’ connection to the temple be but in his own mansion?

Hercules half expected the connection to be difficult to find, hidden well, protected with some kind of horrific magic, but finally, finally luck seemed to be with him. He’d no sooner walked into his uncle’s study before he noticed a large, neon sign in the corner which helpfully read “To the Temple of the Gods”. 

Following the doorway, he found himself in a tiny, round, windowless room. Looking around, he saw another door at the far side of the room.  This one, also was conveniently labeled: “To talk to the annoying mortals who want something from me.”

It wasn’t _exactly_ his purpose, but it was the closest he was going to get, he decided.  Taking a deep breath, he walked through the door…and found himself exactly where he wanted to be, at Hades’ shrine in the temple of the gods.

Something drove him; something compelled him. Somehow he knew exactly what to do.  Tossing a handful of powder into the bowl before his uncle’s shrine, he grabbed the lamp on the wall, and then set his handful of powder on fire.

He took a deep breath and then made his god’s oath.

“I wish to save the life of my true love, Megara,” he said clearly, “and to that end, I plan to walk through her, trade places with her as soon as we’ve returned to the land of the living. As it’s vital I retain my godhood until I’ve defeated Hades, god of the dead, my sacrifice will not take effect until Hades is defeated.   I make this vow now before all the gods of the Pantheon:  I swear that the moment Hades is defeated, I will renounce my godhood and bequeath my human life to Megara.  I will henceforth remain forever in the Underworld.”

There was a tremendous bang and flash of light, and then all was still once again. It was sign enough.  Hercules knew his vow had been made.

Feeling lighter than he had in years, Hercules walked out of the temple and back into his uncle’s study, a delighted smile on his face. He’d succeeded.  Come what may, he’d assured Meg could return to life.

 

_Notes:_

_\--So, Rumple tells Hades how to obtain the power he wants, Belle and Henry instinctively know something is not quite right with Rumple’s horrifying tale, the gang in the Underworld has a plan, even if it’s going to take much longer than they’d like, and Hercules found a way to save Meg. All in all, a pretty full chapter, lol._

_\--I have to admit, I’m enjoying making Rumple squirm (and still enjoying the irony of him getting the raw end of a deal), but I do feel bad for Belle and the baby._

_\--Not long to go now. 3 chapters left._

_\--Up next: In Storybrooke, after two weeks of collecting power, Hades is still a little short. He has an interesting proposition for Rumple.  In the Underworld, the time of the stars aligning finally arrives.  Will the heroes be able to form a portal and go through?  If so, what will they find when they return to Storybrooke?_


	29. Chapter 29

_Storybrooke, nearly 2 weeks later_

Hades stood beside the Storybrooke wishing well, staring grimly at the sight before him.  Rumpestiltskin had given him good information, he’d give him that much.  No sooner had Hades left the Dark One’s shop than he poofed himself to the promised source of magic.  Taking off his god medal, he’d suspended it above the unremarkable-looking well and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.  No more than a minute passed before there was what could only be described as an explosion.  A moment later, smoke, black, purple, green, and all colors in between began to trickle from the depths of the well and into the medal.  As Hades continued to watch in fascination, the smoke built in volume and intensity, occasionally punctuated with flashes of what looked like lightning.  The more smoke poured into the medallion, the more it began to glow, starting from the very bottom tip and slowly moving up.

Didn’t take a genius to figure out that when the glow reached the top of the medallion, and the whole thing was illuminated, he’d have the power he needed to open a gigantic can of whoop-ass on his stupid brother.

The problem?  Now, two weeks later, he was only _hours_ away from the stars aligning, _hours_ away from the moment those stupid fates told him Hercules would defeat him, and the medallion still had a good half-inch of non-glowing mass left.  And what was even worse, the magic smoke had nearly dried up.  It was coming in the barest trickle now, getting fainter by the moment.

And then it stopped altogether.

Hades cursed and snatched his medallion before it could fall into the depths of the well.  He had _failed_?  He’d been _this close_ and in the end he’d _failed?_

No!  He didn’t think so.  He’d get the magic he needed if he had to wring it from Rumplestiltskin’s scrawny neck!

Rumplestiltskin.  The Dark One….that gave him an idea.  The more he thought about it, the more his smile grew.  This could work _fabulously_.  He’d get the power he needed, put the ridiculously arrogant Dark One in his place, and make sure Rumple couldn’t ever amass enough power to cause Hades any more annoyance than a gnat buzzing in his face.

Brilliant, really.  Looked like it was time to make a new deal.

New evil plan made, Hades poofed himself into Rumplestiltskin’s pawn shop, smiling to himself as the nasty little man jumped a mile in fright.  He recovered soon enough, one hand covering his chest over his carefully tailored suit.

“Rather impolite to poof yourself into a man’s business unannounced,” Rumple sneered.

Hades laughed.  “Yeah, because clearly the god of the dead and all of hell is concerned about observing the niceties of politeness.  Say, how’s that blissfully ignorant wife of yours today?  Still totally in the dark?  What about the grandson you inflicted with unimaginable levels of grief?”  Hades shook his head, pasting a faux-sorrowful look on his face.  “And they call me cruel.”

Rumplestiltskin’s lips compressed into a thin line for a moment before he spoke again.  “Was there a point to your visit today, or did you just come to insult me?”

Hades wandered over to a display case, picked up an ugly little doll and turned it over and over, examining it.  After a moment, he turned back toward Rumple.  “Not gonna lie, I do find messing with you incredibly satisfying, but in this case, yes.  I do have a purpose for my visit.”

“And that would be?”

“It’s your lucky day,” Hades said with a big, cheesy smile.  “I’m here to offer you a deal.”

Rumple sneered, picked up his pen, and went back to the writing he’d been doing before Hades interrupted him.  “Not interested.”

Hades brought his hand down on the slip of paper Rumple was working over.  “Oh this deal you will be.  You most definitely will be.”

“I sincerely doubt that, dearie,” Rumple said, leaning against his back counter and crossing his arms, “but by all means, waste my time laying your idiotic deal out before me.”

With a grin, Hades waved his hand and the previous contract he’d made with Rumple appeared.  Despite himself, Rumple’s eyes betrayed interest as he suddenly stood up taller.

“Looks like someone might be interested after all, eh?” Hades asked nastily.

“Just get on with it!” Rumple ground out.

“Here’s the thing,” Hades said, pulling out his medallion for the Dark One’s perusal.  “I have a bit of a problem.  Despite draining every last wisp of magic from that damn well, as you can see, I’m still a little short.”

“Tragic,” Rumple said dryly.  “Guess that means you’ve _failed._   Tough break.”

“Not so fast!” Hades said irritably.  “Haven’t failed quite yet!  I pondered my predicament..”

“Must have given you a headache.  I know how hard thinking is for you,” Rumple muttered.

Hades continued as though there’d been no interruption.  “It suddenly occurred to me that there was yet one more source of magic I could plumb.  You know what that might be?”

Rumple merely scowled, refusing to answer.

“ _Dark One_ magic,” Hades said after a moment.  “In short, I need your power to complete my medallion and make me ready for my confrontation with my brother.”

“Then it would seem you’re out of luck,” Rumple said nastily, “because I’ve no intention of giving up my power.”

“Not even for the right incentive?” Hades cajoled.

“Just what kind of incentive could you _possibly_ think would tempt me toward such an idiotic move as to cede my power to you?”

Hades held up the contract, shaking it slightly.  “Two words.  Your baby.”

Rumple’s eyes widened.

“Ah,” Hades said with a chuckle.  “I see I’ve got your attention now!  So here’s the deal.  You give me your Dark One power, and I rip up this contract.  Your wife, your baby are yours, free and clear.  I’ll even sweeten the deal!  I’ll swear no pain or harm will come to you, your wife, your child or your grandson for the remainder of your life—no matter what crap might be going down around you.”

For the barest moment, Hades thought Rumple would take the deal, but then his face settled into a mocking grin.  “No deal.”

“What?” Hades thundered.  “If anything, I’m getting the raw end of the stick on this deal!  Why the _hell_ would you turn it down?”

“Because, dearie,” Rumple said, “I happen to like my power.  In fact, I happen to _love_ my power.  The day I willingly give it up just to make a 2-bit joke of a dictator happy is the day pigs sprout wings and begin to fly.”

“Think Rumple!” Hades said, beginning to feel a bit of panic.  The Dark One power couldn’t be taken by force—at least without the dagger.  It had to be freely given.  “You’re making a monumental mistake!  Are you so wed to your power that you’re willing to throw your _unborn son_ under the bus just to keep it?”

Rumple’s scowl deepened.  “Perhaps I’ll keep both.  I have a counter-proposal for you:  You tear up the contract and swear to protect me, my wife, my son and my grandson, and I will promise to fight with you, lending my Dark One power, so to speak, when you go up against your brother.”

“So that you can stab me in the back and take my own power for yourself at the critical moment of the battle?” Hades scoffed.  “I think not, _dearie_.  My deal stands.  Take it or leave it.”

“Well then,” Rumple said firmly.  “I’m going to have to leave it.”

Hades hair erupted in his rage.  With a growl, he stomped from the pawn shop, without clear idea where he would go.  Slowly, his rage cooled, and he realized all might not yet be lost.  There was yet _one_ person who might be able to help him get what he needed.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Belle sat curled up in her favorite chair later that afternoon.  Her favorite book sat untouched in her lap as her mind wandered.  Things had been _good_ lately.  Rumple had been more loving and attentive than he’d ever been.  It almost made her feel guilty about the suspicions she’d had when he first came home to her.

Surely he wasn’t keeping anything from her.  Surely he wasn’t lying again.  He’d learned his lesson.  After his heart had nearly become coal-black with the darkness, _surely_ he’d taken his new lease on life and decided to use it to the fullest.

The little nagging part of her that still doubted, that still told her something wasn’t right….well, she needed to just shove it aside.  It wasn’t fair to Rumple for her to let the pain of the past bleed into the present.

She heard a throat clearing from above, and she turned worried eyes toward the stairs.  Henry sat in his room, writing away, at his new storybook.  Writing the fictionalized version of the events in the Underworld seemed to have helped him…at least a little.  He’d been frustrated because he could only write bits and pieces of the adventures.  The rest…even his imagination couldn’t seem to supply it.

Belle had advised him to put it aside for now, work on something else for the time being until inspiration for the Underworld story returned.  He’d reluctantly agreed, and set himself a new project.  He would use his time to write everyone’s story from the time he broke the author’s quill up until they left for the Underworld.  At least _those_ events he seemed to have a clear memory of, even if the words didn’t flow as easily as they had when he held the quill.

Belle thought over the last two weeks.  Henry had been surprisingly resilient, considering the trauma he’d been through after witnessing his almost step-father murder the rest of the family.  He still grieved, of course.  Occasionally, she heard a tell-tale sniff that told her he’d been crying again. 

She’d suggested he start going to see Archie again, to work through everything that had happened.  When she talked to the doctor after one of Henry’s sessions, Archie said Henry was doing as well as anyone in such a terrible situation could be expected to.  He was a bit in denial, at the moment, insisting something just wasn’t _right_ about the description of events Rumple had detailed, but Archie hadn’t seemed concerned.

“It’s just one of the stages of grief,” Archie had reassured.  “It’ll pass. Just give him time.”

Belle wasn’t so sure.  There was just something so…convinced…in the way Henry insisted things weren’t quite the way they seemed.  From time to time, Belle couldn’t help but wonder, yet again, if maybe Henry’s fictionalized version of events was closer to the reality than what Rumple told her.

She felt like such a terrible wife for still wondering if her husband was lying to her.

The doorbell rang.

Belle looked up, surprised.  No one came by the house this time of day.  She opened the door to find a man she’d never seen before.  Nicely dressed in a black suit, he wore a big, cheesy grin.  Rather than friendly, though, he was decidedly unsettling.

“H…hello?” Belle said, her brows furrowed.  “can I help you?”

The man bowed deeply, his grin still firmly in place.  “You must be the lovely Mrs. Gold.  Let me congratulate you on your upcoming bundle of joy.”

Belle’s eyes widened.  It was still early in the pregnancy.  She and Rumple had yet to make their good news public.  How did this stranger know?  “Thank you…and you are?”

“Where are my manners,” he said.  “Names Hades, god of the dead, business associate of your husband.”

Belle took a quick step back at the name, her hand coming up as though to ward him off.  Her eyes darted to her cell phone, still sitting on the end table next to the chair where she’d been sitting.  Could she get to it, call Rumple?  Could he get to her before Hades did…something to her?

The man seemed amused at her reaction.  “Yeah, I see you’ve heard of me.  I’ve built quite the reputation.  Although, I’ve gotta say.  The way mortals seem to view me?  You know with horns and pitchfork and a forked tail?  Pretty damn insulting.  And red?  Red is _so_ not my color.”

Belle looked around for something, anything big and heavy she could hit him with if that should be necessary.  But then, with a sinking heart, she realized it probably would be useless anyway.  She’d never had the opportunity to do much research on Hades (although now it occurred to her that she probably should have, given her husband’s last trip), but she’d wager hitting a god over the head with something heavy would do nothing more than make him mad.  No, she’d need to use her wits if she wanted to get out of this alive.

“What is it you want?” she asked, forcing the waiver of fear from her voice. 

“Well nothing to make you freak out the way you’re doing now,” Hades said, stepping past her into the entryway of your home.  “I was just hoping you’d be able to help me with something.”

“Help you?” Belle asked, crossing her arms.  “Why on _earth_ would I _help_ you?”

“Because if you help me, I’ll tear up the contract on your baby.”

“The _what_?” Belle asked.

“Oh…well this is awkward,” Hades said with a nasty little laugh.  “Looks like there’s something your _Dark One_ of a husband forgot to tell you.”

“My husband is _not_ the Dark One!” Belle said firmly.  “His heart was wiped clean several months ago, and he’s worked _hard_ to keep it clean!  And what is this about him forgetting to tell me something?”

Hades shook his head, faux sorrowful look on his face.  “Poor, sweet, deluded Belle.  Always her husband’s dupe.  Tell me, sweetheart, do you ever get tired of being so damn trusting and naïve?  Do you ever get tired of having the wool pulled over your eyes?”

Belle felt her heart rate pick up.  Hadn’t she been saying much the same things to herself over the last few weeks since Rumple came home?  Hadn’t she had nagging doubts about his truthfulness?  Hadn’t she had…flashes of moments where something just felt off?  She knew better than to trust the demon standing before her, but…was it possible there was some truth in what he was saying?

No!  She wouldn’t believe it!    Rumple _wouldn’t_ lie to her again!  Not after the last time!  Not after it drove her away and almost took his own life.  She would trust him!

“I asked you a question,” Belle said, voice infused with steel.  “What are you implying Rumple didn’t tell me, and what does _any_ of this have to do with our baby?”

Hades grinned, big, toothy, looking for all the world like a wolf who wanted to devour her.  “Simply this.  Your saint of a husband isn’t nearly so pure and clean of heart as he’d like you to think.  When your friend Hook had his blonde piece of fluff run him through with Excalibur, he had the best of intentions.  He firmly believed he was destroying the darkness forever.  But do you know what really happened?”

Belle felt a deep foreboding in the pit of her stomach.  She couldn’t have answered if she wanted to. 

“What _really_ happened is that your husband turned that sword into a conduit.  When Miss Swan stabbed her disgustingly heroic beau, the power was not destroyed; it was transferred right back into your husband.  And voila!  Dark One once again!”

“No!” Belle said, “I won’t believe it!  You’re just trying to trick me!  Rumple wouldn’t do that to me; not again!  Besides, why would he go to the Underworld to save a man he’s hated all his life if he was filled with darkness once again?”

“Simple.  Blackmail.”

“Excuse me?”

“Blackmail,” Hades repeated.  “When Miss Swan determined your Rumple’s duplicity, she threatened to expose his dark status unless he helped her get her pirate back.  Then once in the Underworld, Rumple ran straight into my arms.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he knew I could give him what he wanted.  I could get him home while simultaneously trapping every living soul that knew his terrible secret,” Hades said.  “Worked well, really.  He helps me defeat my brother and gain ultimate power over all the known lands, and I trap his friends in hell forever so that he can keep his blissfully ignorant wife…well… _blissfully ignorant_.

“I can’t believe that!  I won’t believe it!” Belle wailed, trying desperately to hold on to her belief and faith in her husband.  But with every word the god of the dead spoke, the farther her heart sank.  His words had the ring of truth, and if he wasn’t, indeed lying….the evil Rumple had done to their friends was off the charts.

“Oh but doll, you haven’t even heard the best part!” Hades said delightedly.  “The best part is that I made him sell me his baby— _your_ baby—before I’d take the deal.”

“Rumple wouldn’t…he couldn’t…he _loved_ Bae!  He loves this baby!  He’d _never_ sell our child!”

“Oh but he did.  Turns out there’s very, very little the Dark One will not do,” Hades assured.

“No!” Belle said, hearing the note of desperation in her voice.  “I can’t believe you!  He gave up the Dark One.  It _cannot_ be true.”

“If that’s the case, he won’t have the dagger, will he?” Hades said.

“No; he _doesn’t_ have the dagger!”

“You so sure about that?” Hades asked.  “You know where he used to keep it.  You _sure_ it’s not locked up nice and tight there?”

“Yes!” Belle said with far more conviction than she felt.  “I’m absolutely sure.”

“Then you won’t be afraid to show me, will you?”

“Not at all!” Belle said.  “He used to keep it in a safe in our bedroom.  That’s where I found it…before when the gauntlet from Camelot led me to it.  It’s now _completely_ empty.”

“Well then, how about you show me your ‘completely empty’ safe?”

Belle gave him a long look, and then nodded, walking swiftly toward the bedroom she shared with her husband.  She would have faith in Rumple!  She would believe he was telling her the truth!  She had to believe when she opened the safe door she’d find nothing but cobwebs.  She _had_ to believe that!

But the moment the door swung open, the light from the window glinted off something metal.  With shaking hands, Belle reached inside.  When she grabbed hold of a wavy dagger inscribed with the name ‘Rumplestiltkin’, she gave a small cry and slid bonelessly to the floor.

Hades stepped in and swiftly plucked the dagger from her shocked, fingers.  “Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Dark One.  Love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to go force your husband to give me all his power so that I can take over the world.”

And before she could even cry out, Hades poofed himself away in a cloud of deep gray smoke.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_Underworld, present day_

Emma took a deep breath as she peered intently at the Underworld lake before her.  Beside her, Killian grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers and giving her hand a little squeeze.  She looked up at him, smiling.  It still amazed her sometimes how well he knew her—how he understood her without her needing to say a word.

He knew how worried she was.

They were only moments away from the stars aligning, moments away from finding out whether or not their plan would succeed.  If it wouldn’t…if Hercules had failed to regain enough god status to open the portal…if…if something went wrong and Killian couldn’t return with them afterwards…if something had happened to Henry in the two weeks since Rumple and Hades had stolen him away…

She didn’t know how she’d survive if any of those “ifs” ended up being realities.

Gently, her husband of two weeks turned her so she was facing him.  “Calm yourself, my love.  This will work.  Only moments now and we’ll return to Storybrooke and save our lad.”

“You’re really so confident this is going to work?”

He leaned down and kissed her (lightly, gently, conscious that her father was standing only feet away).  “I’ve no doubt this will work.  Have faith, Swan.”

There were murmurs of assent from all around them.  The Charmings, Regina, Robin, Hercules, Megara, Killian and herself were all assembled, ready to take advantage of the portal the moment Hercules succeeded in opening it.

It had been a busy two weeks.  Emma and the others had thrown themselves into the task of helping as many people as possible cross to Elysium.  It had been a monumental task, one that took nearly every waking moment.

Good thing, as far as Emma was concerned.  If her mind was consumed with the task at hand, she couldn’t worry about Henry, about what Hades was up to, about what utter filth Rumple was filling her son’s mind with.

It was only at night, lying in their bed, that Emma had the time to think about these fears that threatened to consume her.  Killian had been indispensable in soothing her at those times she was convinced the fear would kill her.  What she would do without this wonderful, patient, loving man at her side, she didn’t know. 

She’d come so close to having to find out, and the thought of him being dead, being gone from her forever, was still such a recent and tender wound that she couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from him for more than a few moments at a time.

But they’d survived the last two weeks in the Underworld, holding each other close and reassuring each other that it would be okay.  And now it was time to get home, rescue Henry and kick Hades and Rumple all the way back to hell.

“Everybody ready?” Hercules asked, stepping forward until the lake waters lapped at his shoes.

“We’ve been ready for two weeks,” Regina groused.  “Get on with it wonder boy!”

“As her majesty commands,” Hercules said with a grin.

He stepped forward until he was in the lake.  Closing his eyes in concentration, he reached down and touched the rippled surface of the water.  Instantly a small whirlpool formed.  It grew and grew in diameter until it formed a full, gaping portal.

“Well, love,” Killian said grinning, “I guess this is it.”

Emma had one last moment of panic.  One last fear that Killian would be repelled, forced to stay in this literal hell hole.  If that happened… “Killian…I love you.  I love you with all my heart.”

“And I you, Emma,” he said, gently cupping her face.  “And I have full confidence it’s something we’ll tell each other many thousands of times before either of us finds ourselves here in the Underworld once again.  This will work; have faith my love.”

Emma looked up at him, her eyes darting between both of his.  Finally, she nodded.  “Okay, here goes nothing!”

And with that, she and Killian jumped together into the void.  A moment later, the portal spit them out onto the soft grass on the bank of the lake in Storybrooke.  Emma took only a moment to brush her hair out of her face before she turned concerned eyes to Killian.

He lay on his back, three feet away.  His eyes were closed and he remained still.  Emma’s heart plunged.  No!  No!  This couldn’t be happening he couldn’t be…

She rushed to his side, collapsed beside him and shook him gently.  Vaguely she was aware of her parents, of Regina and Robin, of Hercules and Meg standing nearby.

Finally, he gasped and sat up.  “It would appear, love that portals are far rougher on those being brought back from the dead.  I feel rather like I did that time that horseless carriage ran me down.”

Emma laughed and then launched herself at him, wrapping him in her arms and kissing him with a passion and abandon that soon had her father muttering irritably to himself.

“We did it!” Snow White said.  “We succeeded!  We got Killian back and we all got home in one piece.”

“Did you ever really doubt we would, mom?” Emma asked.

“Not for a moment, honey.”

“Well, I’d suggest we not waste time celebrating yet,” Meg said grimly.  “We’ve still got a god to defeat and our lives to take back from the villains.  How ‘bout we go take care of that before the partying begins?”

With that, Megara turned and began to walk away, but she’d only made it two steps before Hercules stopped her with a hand to her arm.  “We’ve one thing we must do first, my love, before we can confront my uncle.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

He took a deep breath—and then walked through her.  Meg gasped, and then whirled around to look at him in shock.  “What did you do, Hercules?” she asked.  “What did you do?”

“The only think I could, Meg,” he said.  “Hades himself took your life.  You’ve no hope to obtain it again…unless another offers his up for you.”

Meg rushed to him then, tears in her eyes.  “No, Hercules!  You can’t do this!  I won’t let you give up your life for me!”

“It’s done, my love,” he said, tenderly wiping at one of her stray tears. “I need my strength to defeat Hades, but the moment he is defeated, I forfeit my life to you.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then there was a sudden whoosh, and suddenly Hercules’ god medal filled to the brim, and he, himself began to glow like a lamp.

“Um…what just happened?” Emma asked.

Suddenly Mary Margaret gasped.  “Hercules!  You’ve gotten your god status back!  Don’t you see?  Your father told you you would become a god again when you became a true hero.  What could you possibly do that’s more heroic than giving up your life for someone you love?”

Hercules held his hand out in front of him, turned it this way and that, examined it.  Suddenly he smiled wide and joyous.  “It would appear you’re correct, your majesty.  I’ve regained my full power.”

“Perfect,” Emma said.  “Alright, let’s go save my son and then kick some serious villain ass!”

_Notes:_

_\--Whew!  I met my self-imposed Saturday deadline…but only barely!  Less than 2 hours to go.  It’s been an incredibly busy week, and it’s sure to get busier now that I temporarily have a second job.  (My church music director resigned, and my priest asked me to take her job in the interim until they’re able to hire someone full time.)_

_\--So, the good news is that the gang made it back to Storybrooke without incident—and Hercules regained his god status, giving him maximum power when he goes after his uncle.  The bad news is that Hades got ahold of the Dark One dagger and will soon have all the power he needs to become basically invincible._

_\--Up next: (The next-to-the-last chapter)  The heroes find Belle and Henry.  They waste no time giving Henry the author’s pen.  Will it succeed in bringing back his memories.  Belle tells them about her visit from Hades.  Can they figure out where he is in time to stop him…before it’s too late?_


	30. Chapter 30

_Storybrooke, present day_

Henry woke up from a nap that afternoon and sighed.  He’d dreamed of his moms again and…and…Hook.  It has been a good dream; an amazing dream.  They’d all come home, everyone was alive, and Hook wasn’t…evil.  They all lived happily ever after.

Henry felt the anger bubbling up.  It was all crap!  All of it!  There was no such thing as “happily ever after”.  Emma had been right when she’d first come to Storybrooke; fairy tales were just stupid stories parents told their kids to give them false hope about the goodness of the world.

There was no goodness in the world.  Not if his moms, his gram and gramps, the man who was basically his step-dad and Hercules and Megara could be murdered by his other almost step-dad.

It just didn’t make sense.  _Any_ of it.  And yet…he had _memories_ of what happened.  He’d _never_ forget the disbelief and sadness on his mom’s face when Killian had ripped out her heart and crushed it.  She’d loved him and trusted him with everything in her—and so had Henry.  He’d been so determined to have hope, to think the best of Killian, but in the end, he’d been proven just to be a stupid naïve little boy who’d just lost almost his entire family in one fell swoop.  The tears swimmed in his eyes again, and Henry angrily swiped them away.  Crying wouldn’t bring them back, wouldn’t make the pain in his own chest go away.

If only there was _something_ he could do, some way to…make what happened nothing but a bad dream.

He’d had hope that first day he was back.  When he’d been unable to write what happened, when his mind kept insisting something else had happened—something involved his mom succeeding in saving Killian and Killian being…a hero again.  He’d hoped against hope that it _meant_ something.  That maybe there was some mistake; that his memories were wrong and that version his imagination was suggesting was correct.

But he’d had no more success writing his fantasy than he had his memories.  He could get down a scene or two here or there, but never the full story.  In the end, he’d given up writing altogether.  What was the use?  If he still had the author’s quill, maybe he could rewrite things, take them all back to before his mom had become the Dark One and his whole world had crumbled around him, but he didn’t have the quill.

It was destroyed and gone, just like his loved ones.

Suddenly, he heard voices downstairs in the foyer.  That was Belle, and she sounded…upset…but who was the man she was talking to?  Henry felt a stirring of curiosity and crept from his bedroom.  By the time he reached the stairs, the door below had closed, and the visitor had left.

Henry was about to return to his room when he heard a sniff and a heartbroken “No!” from below.  Something must have happened, something that had left Belle crying.

Maybe there was nothing he could do for his moms and grandparents anymore, but there was no way he was going to let bad things happen to his remaining family members! 

No longer worrying about being quiet, Henry rushed down the stairs to find Belle sitting behind Rumple’s desk, the safe above hanging open—and quite empty.

“Grandma Belle!” Henry said  “What’s wrong?  What happened?  Who was that man that came here?”

Belle looked up, startled, and then quickly wiped at her wet cheeks, determinedly pasting a smile on her face.  “Nothing to worry about Henry.  We may…have a bit of a problem here in Storybrooke, but don’t worry.  We’ll find a way to deal with it.”

Henry felt the annoyance bubble up again.  No one _ever_ believed he was old enough to be a hero!  No one ever told him what he needed to know about the villains and curses and everything else that happened around his hometown!  Everyone always shoved him aside and told him to get to safety.  Well he was _tired_ of it!

But Grandma Belle was obviously really upset about something and Henry didn’t want to make her any more upset than she already was.  Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down before he spoke again.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.  “Is there a new villain in town?  Is Grandpa Rumple okay.”

Belle looked closely at him for long moments and then nodded.

“You really do want to help, don’t you?” She asked.

“Yeah!” Henry said excitedly.  “Please, Grandma!  I need to _do_ something!  I wasn’t able to save my family, but maybe I can save my town.”

A shadow passed across Belle’s face.  Getting to her feet, she stepped toward him and put an arm around his shoulders.  “I’m not entirely sure that’s true, Henry.”

“I can!” he insisted.  “I’m not a small child anymore.  I can help you and Grandpa Rumple!  I can…”

“No,” Belle said, shaking her head, her brow furrowed.  “That wasn’t what I meant.  I meant…I’m not sure things truly happened the way you think they happened in the Underworld.”

“What?  I remember what happened…”

“Yes,” Belle said, turning to look outside, “but…Rumple has ways to modify memories when he wants to.”

Henry felt a small flame of hope bubble up in his chest.  “You…you think he lied to us?  You think Killian didn’t kill my family?”

Belle shrugged.  “I don’t know what to think anymore, but I know…I know Rumple’s not being completely truthful.  That man that came to visit?  That was Hades.  He’s planning some sort of takeover of the world, and he needs Rumple’s Dark One power to do it.”

Henry gasped.  “But Grandma…Rumple doesn’t _have_ the Dark One power anymore!”

Belle sighed, and Henry saw one tear make its way down her cheek.  “Henry…I’m afraid he is.  Hades tricked me into opening the safe, and the Dark One dagger was there.  It has Rumple’s name on it.  I don’t know what he did or how this happened, but somehow he’s the Dark One again.”

The hope blossomed further…and then was replaced with sudden fear and horror.  “But…but if he’s the Dark One, what did he do to Killian…and my moms?”

Belle hugged him tighter.  “I don’t know, Henry, but I promise you, I _promise you_ we’ll find out.  First though, we’ve got a more pressing problem.”

“What’s that?”

“If we don’t find a way to stop Hades from getting Rumple’s power, the consequences could be disastrous—for all the known realms.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Evening was setting in by the time the group of heroes made it to Storybrooke.  It felt strange being home, Emma thought.  The air was crisp and cool.  It held the scent of the wildflowers that grew near the lake rather than the ever present sulpher of the Underworld.

She was cold, despite her sweater and leather jacket, and rubbed her hands over her arms, jumping lightly up and down.

“Chilled, love?” Killian asked, at her side.  Always at her side.

“Yeah, a little,” she said, adjusting the beanie to cover the tips of her ears.  “Didn’t remember it being this cold in Storybrooke this early in the fall.”

“Perhaps it’s our peculiar un-dead state, Mrs. Jones,” Robin suggested.  “If I’m not mistaken, the air temperature is rather temperate, but I’m similarly chilled to the bone.”

“So I guess we best find the villains A.S.A.P. and change our undead status,” Charming said with a grimace.  “Not to mention stopping them from taking over the world.”

“Never a dull moment around here, is there?” Snow asked, reaching for her bow, strapped to her back.

“Yeah, well one problem,” Regina said.  “We don’t even have a clue where all of them _are_.  How do we even _find_ them?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said with determination, “but it doesn’t matter.  Finding the villains can wait, as far as I’m concerned.  First I intend to find my son, make sure he’s okay, get rid of all the crap Rumple filled his head with.”

“I’m with you on that, Miss Swan,” Regina said grimly.

But finding Henry proved to be easier said than done.  They’d tried Rumple’s normal places first—his home, his shop, then they’d canvassed the places Henry was most familiar with—the loft, the house he and Killian had chosen for Emma, the school, even the site of his old castle.  Nothing.

They were just about to ask around Granny’s when Emma noticed that there was a light on in the library.

“He’s there,” she said softly.

“Pardon?” Killian answered.

“In the library,” Emma said, already heading that direction.  “Henry’s in the library.  I can feel it.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” Hercules asked.  “We’ve already lost a good amount of time looking for the lad, not that I begrudge you that, but I feel uneasy the longer we wait to confront my uncle.”

“Emma’s right,” Regina said.  “I can feel it.  True Love connection or something.  Henry’s in the library.”

“Then to the library we go,” Killian said, stepping up beside Emma and lacing his fingers with hers.

Emma saw him the moment they opened the door.  He sat at a table, a stack of books before him, Belle at his side.  At the sound of the bell over the door, Henry looked up.

“Mom!” he cried “Mom!  You’re…you’re here!”

And then he was running, launching himself at first her then Regina then his grandparents.

It was only when he reached Killian that he seemed to think better of his exuberant response, stopping short and backing up slightly.

Emma heard her husband’s sharp intake of breath, his muttered “Bloody hell, lad, what garbage did the Crocodile spew at you?”

Emma took Killian’s hand once again, and then stepped toward Henry.  “Kid, I don’t know what you think you remember, but I can guarantee you it’s not what really happened.”

“Really?” Henry said skeptically.  “Because I have some pretty strong memories, and Hook…Hook…he killed you.  He killed you all. Crushed your hearts!”

Killian cursed again beside her, and Emma felt a swift rage build toward the son of a bitch that would go to such lengths to make his rival look bad...the son of a bitch that would deliberately put that look of grief in her son’s eyes.

Probably a good thing Rumple wasn’t here right now.  Emma thought she could probably murder him with her bare hands.

It was David who finally spoke.  “Well, as you can see, we’re all here, all alive…well, in a manner of speaking.  It’s a little more complicated than that, but I can promise you, Killian has been nothing but a true hero, beside us through it all.”

Emma looked up at Killian in time to see a surprised, delighted smile grace his lips.  It hurt somehow, knowing it still surprised him so much to hear such sentiments spoken of him.  She vowed then and there that once this whole ordeal was over, she’d take every opportunity to remind her husband how much of a hero he was, how important he was to their whole family.

“But,” Henry said, brows furrowing, “how can I know what’s real and what’s not?  If I can’t trust my memories, how will I ever know?”

Emma reached into her coat and pulled out the pen.  “Ran in to an old friend in the Underworld kid.  He told us this can help you get your memories back.”

Henry stepped forward, reaching for the pen.  The moment it touched his hand, his eyes widened.  “I…I think I remember,” he said.

He rushed toward the stack of paper he’d been using to take notes and began scribbling away.  Five minutes later, he looked up, anger and fear clear in his eyes.  “We have to find Rumple and Hades.  We can’t let them get away with this!”

“Don’t worry, Henry,” Regina said, her tone infused with steal.  “They most certainly won’t get away.  Not while I’m still in around!  They’ll rue the day they ever decided to cross the formerly Evil Queen.”

“Which brings us back to our next dilemma,” Megara said.  “Where exactly _are_ they?  Confronting them would be a hell of a lot easier if we had that little bit of knowledge.”

Belle gestured toward the books littering the large table before her.  “Henry and I have been looking, scouring every book we could find that had _anything_ to do with Hades or the gods or the Underworld.  I’m afraid we’ve reached a dead end.”

Beside her, Killian straightened, and Emma looked up, noting the widening of his eyes.  “But we _have_ a way to determine their whereabouts,” he said slowly.  “Don’t you see?”

He looked around, meeting blank stares.

“Henry,”  Killian said.  “We simply have the lad write Hades’ story and we’ll be apprised of not only his whereabouts, but the entirety of his plan as well!”

“But Killian,” Snow said, “I don’t think it’s that simple.  The author can’t write the future, only what’s already happened.”

“That’s all we need,” Emma said, sudden understanding coming into her eyes.  “If we just learn what Rumple and Hades plan to do, where they are, we can take care of the rest!  You think you can do that for us, Kid?”

Henry smiled, and Emma could read his thoughts moving across his face.  This was his chance to use his job for good; to be the hero he’d always wanted to be. 

“Yeah, no problem!” Henry finally said, sitting at the table, taking up the author’s quill and beginning to write.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hercules naturally took the lead on “Operation Cerberus” as Emma Swan Jones’s boy termed their mission to defeat Hades once and for all.  Hercules was, after all, the god of the group, as well as the one the fates had prophecied to be Hades’ undoing.

Henry had only needed to write for a bare five minutes before he’d recovered enough information for them to learn that Hades was at the wishing well only moments away from transfer of the rest of the Dark One power into his medallion.  After insisting a very reluctant Henry remain in the library with Mrs. Gold while the rest of them went off to battle (the lad had only agreed when Queen Snow White suggested his best contribution might be to continue writing, in case he uncovered another bit of useful information), they left town and headed in the direction of the wishing well.

“Alright,” Hercules said, stopping a quarter of a mile from their destination.  “Let’s talk strategy before we go in.”

“Wise idea,” Killian said.  “It’s suicide to enter a battle without a plan of attack.”

“Just so,” Hercules said.  “Henry told us that all the villains will be assembled at the well with Hades for two reasons. First, Hades wants them to witness his greatest triumph, and second, they can act as defense in case anyone tries to attack Hades before the transfer is complete.  That being the case, I should think our tasks would be clear.  Each one of you must engage in battle with the particular villain who took your life.  This will make the way clear for me to reach Hades and it will give you the opportunity to get your life back.”

“But what about Megara?” Charming asked.  “Hades himself took her life and you presumably restored it when we first got back here.”

“Meg,” Hercules said, looking at her.  “I’m well aware of your skills in battle.  Perhaps you might float around, helping any of our group who needs assistance.”

“Of course,” Meg said.  “Piece of cake.”

“Thank you,” Hercules said with a bow of the head and an affectionate smile.  “Now, once each of you have vanquished your particular villain, go to the aid of the others until finally you are able to assist me in my far more arduous task.  Are we all in agreement?”

There were nods and words of assent all around.  There seemed to be an unspoken understanding among this band of heroes that their task was not at all assured.  There was no guarantee any of them would come out of this unscathed, and, as a result, it was vital each and every one make their last preparations.

To that end, they naturally broke up into couples.  Hercules took Megara aside, and once he’d disappeared behind a large willow tree, took her into his arms and kissed her with all the love inside him.  She, for her part returned the embrace in equal measure, needing, it would seem, to get as close to him as possible in this, which could be their last moment together.

Eventually the need for air trumped their need for each other, and they broke apart.

Meg spoke first.  “You…idiot!” she said, “why would you do that?  Why would you give up your own life for me?  It’s too much of a sacrifice!”

He smiled gently, swiping at a tear that had escaped her lovely eye.  “No, not so, my love,” he assured.  “No sacrifice would have been too great.  As to why…I would think it’s pretty obvious.  I love you more than anything in any realm, and it was an honor and a pleasure to give my life if it meant you get yours.”

“But I don’t _want_ my life without you!” she said in an anguished voice.  “What remains for me here when I know my true love is in the Underworld?”

“I’m sure you’ll find happiness with the new friends we’ve made here,” Hercules assured.  “And the separation will not be forever.  Once you’ve had a good, long life, you’ll join me in the Underworld, and we can be happy together for eternity.  What are a few decades really when we have eternity before us?”

She smiled tremulously and then got up on her toes to kiss him once more.  “I love you, more than anything.  Be careful out there alright?  If we have to make this sacrifice at least make it worth it.  Defeat Hades and don’t let him harm you.”

“I will do my utter best, my beloved Meg,” Hercules promised.

“I hate to break up your farewell with your love,” Robin said, stepping into their clearing, “but it would seem haste is in order.  It appears a column of light has risen into the sky, and it’s coming from the direction of the well.  I can’t imagine that bodes well.”

Hercules looked in the direction indicated, and his mouth thinned to a grim line.  The outlaw was right.  Something was a foot, and there was no longer any time to lose.  The heroes took the remainder of the way to the well at an all-out run.

They arrived just in time to hear Hades yell out in triumph as he plucked his fully-glowing medallion from the air.  Hercules took in the sight before him in a split second.  Hades stood tall and strong by the well, looking triumphant, his hair flaming high and proud.  Rumplestiltskin cowered some five feet away, covering his head, and apparently attempting to hide himself in the bushes.  The remainder of the villains surrounded Hades and the well in a loose semi-circle.

“Hades!” Hercules yelled, sprinting into the clearing.  “It’s been prophecied that I’ll defeat you when the stars are aligned, and that’s just what I intend to do!”

Hades laughed.  “Go ahead and try, sonny boy!” he said.  “I just filled up my medallion with all the power in the known realms.  You go up against me, you’ll just get squashed like a bug.”

Hercules balled his hands into fists and stepped forward.  “So be it.”

And with that, the all-out melee began.  Hercules was vaguely aware of each of his compatriots pulling their weapons of choice and engaging with their opponents as he walked firmly and purposely toward his uncle.

Hercules had no clear idea what defeating Hades would entail; all he knew was that he _must_ defeat the god before him.  To that end, he walked up to his uncle and delivered a swift left hook to the deity’s temple.  Hades reeled back for a moment and then retaliated with a bolt of magic that hit Hercules in the middle of the chest and made him double up, breathless.

Undeterred, Hercules straightened and waded once more into the fight.  Hercules fought bravely, valiantly for what felt like hours.  He held his own admirably, but while he felt himself weakening with every attack by his uncle, Hades appeared completely unfazed.

Clearly this strategy wasn’t working.  Another few minutes of this and Hercules would be incapacitated, at Hades’ (non-existent) mercy.

“The medallion mate!” Hercules heard from behind him.  He turned his head to see Killian, Emma and Snow behind him, their assailants incapacitated on the ground.  Regina and Charming had likewise defeated their assigned villains and had gone with Megara to help Robin Hood defeat his.

Hercules nodded, knowing the pirate had given him good advice.  As long as Hades had the medallion, and as long as it glowed with all the magic in the realms, he’d be untouchable.  The key to defeating Hades was destroying his medallion.

And with that insight, Hercules changed his strategy, focusing all his energy into getting the medallion from around Hades’ neck.

Hades realized Hercules’ intent right away, adjusting his own approach so as to protect the symbol of his godhood.

Try as he might, Hercules made no more headway in his quest to get Hades’ medallion than he had in his quest to overpower the god of the dead.  As the moments passed, Hercules became more and more frantic.  Was Hades right?  Were they _already_ too late.

Hercules heard a gasp behind him.  “True Love,” Meg murmured behind him, only loud enough for him and her nearest companions to hear.  “Emma, Killian it was prophecied that your true love would help Hercules defeat his uncle!”

The couple in question murmured to each other, clearly discussing it, making a plan.  A moment later, Killian stepped up to Hercules, whispering in his ear.  “Stall him,” he said.  “Keep him occupied.  Swan and I will take care of the medallion.”

Hercules nodded, and focused all his energy on distracting the god of the dead.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Emma directed magic toward Hades’ neck and Killian scooped up the Dark One dagger Hades had discarded as soon as he’d pulled the Dark One magic from it.

Hades realized what was going on a split second too late.  Turning his attention from Hercules, he sent a blast of magic toward Emma, knocking her to the ground—but not before she’d captured the medallion within her hand.

“Emma!” Killian yelled, hurtling to her side.

Emma got slowly to a sitting position, waving her husband off.  “I’m fine Killian.  Just…let’s do this quickly.”

Killian nodded, raised the dagger high and brought it down until it impaled the medallion and then lodged into the soft ground all the way to the hilt.

The effect was immediate.  A shockwave of magic rushed from the ruined medallion and covered the entire land, knocking all the players in the little drama to the ground.

“No!” Hades moaned as his medallion slowly shriveled up until it was nothing but a burned out husk of itself.

Taking advantage of the moment, Hercules delivered one final blow to Hades.  “Your power has been broken,” he said firmly.  “Your challenge to my brother has been thwarted, and your stranglehold over the Underworld broken.  Be gone from this, or any other world you’ve threatened or tormented.”

At Hercules’ word, the ground shook, and then a portal formed.  As the heroes looked on, Hades and the villains were pulled into the swirling vortex, before it blinked out of existence, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

It was over.  After centuries of havoc, Hades was finally defeated.

_Notes:_

_\--Yay!  The good guys both restored Henry’s memories and defeated Hades.  (And yes, the fact that all the villains got sucked into the portal is proof that all the heroes managed to get their lives back from them.)_

_\--Up next:  The final chapter!  There’s one last conflict to resolve:  With things as they currently stand, Hercules and Megara are about to be separated again thanks to Hercules’s sacrifice. They end up getting help from an unexpected source.  Afterwards, we learn the fates of Hades, the villains and Rumple—and just how far reaching the effects of the destroying of the medallion were.  We’ll end up with a big celebration at Hook and Emma’s house._


	31. Chapter 31

_Storybrooke, present day_

For a moment the entire band of heroes seemed frozen in time. No one moved; no one spoke.  Then all at once everyone broke out into celebration.

It finally sank in for Killian that with the defeat of Hades, this whole bloody nightmare—from Emma taking on the darkness all the way to him dying to defeat said darkness—was over. He whooped in triumph, turning toward Emma, lifting her in the air and kissing her with all the love and joy in his heart.  She for her part, matched him kiss for kiss, one of her legs kicking up behind her.

When Killian finally pulled away, gently setting his wife back on the ground, he looked around the clearing. It looked like the other couples among them had chosen to celebrate their victory in much the same way he and Swan had.  Only the Crocodile appeared to be less than pleased, standing alone near the wishing well, sour look across his face.

Curious, that. Why would the man be less than pleased that the god who’d most recently been tormenting him was vanquished?

Emma seemed to read his mind, as she often did now that they shared one heart. “Gold, what’s with the scowl?” she asked, stepping out of Killian’s arms.  “In case you missed it, we _won_.  We saved your worthless ass as well as the rest of ours.”

If possible, Rumple’s scowl deepened. He gestured toward the ground at their feet.  “Congratulations, pirate,” he said, “it appears you’ve succeeded after all.”

Killian glanced to the spot the Crocodile was indicating and noticed the change in the Dark One dagger he’d dropped after the battle. The blade had utterly disintegrated, the wavy surface reduced to nothing but ash, only the hilt remaining.

Emma turned toward him, eyes widened. “Does that mean…?”

“Yes, Miss Swan…or should I say Mrs. Jones?” Rumple said irritably. “Your one-handed pirate has managed to destroy the darkness once and for all.  There will never again be a Dark One or the power therein contained.”

Killian’s heart pounded, and he felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes. This had been his life’s mission.  This was why he’d lived for a long three hundred years.  For much of that time he’d pursued his quest in a wrong-headed manner, seeking vengeance against the Crocodile rather than justice, a way to save anyone else from being destroyed the way his first love was.  He’d long since begun pursuing the end of destroying the darkness in a nobler way.

Milah finally, finally had gotten justice.

Emma smiled up at Killian, reaching a hand to cup his cheek. Pride and wonder shown from her green eyes.  Slowly she brought him down for a quick kiss.  “Killian, don’t you ever doubt your hero status after this.  You are as true a hero as any of us.”

He smiled broadly, leaning down to return her kiss.

They were interrupted by a derisive snort behind them. “Ah yes,” Rumple said, “the pirate is a ‘true hero’ and gets all he wishes, while the rest of us are constantly screwed over.”

Killian felt the anger bubble up, the old resentments still simmering and the newer offenses still stinging. He took one step toward the Crocodile, hardly even aware of what he meant to do or say to his erstwhile enemy, but before he could go further he felt a hand on his shoulder.

After a mutual nod between the two men, Charming stepped past Killian, stopping directly before Rumple. “Alright, enough,” he said, pulling a set of cuffs from his pocket and placing them on the Crocodile’s wrists.  “After all you’ve done to _all_ of us over the last couple of weeks—let alone the last several decades you have no room to complain about being screwed over.”

Swan’s father marched the Crocodile away, his wife following after. Killian was on the point of offering his arm to his wife to follow them when a gasp startled him.

“What…what _is_ that thing?” Megara gasped, pointing toward the sky.

Behind them, Robin Hood cursed. Killian looked up and felt like cursing himself.  A fury.  One of Hades’ infernal beasts used to carry off souls to the land of death.

Hercules stepped forward, giving Meg a quick loving look. “It seems its time I make good on my vow, my love.  I did, after all swear to sacrifice my life if you could live.”

“I…I don’t want to say goodbye,” Meg said, stepping forward and wrapping her in her arms, hugging him tightly to her.

“I know,” he said, burying his face into the crook of her neck, “but we will see each other again. When your time comes; after you’ve lived a long full live; I’ll meet you on the other side.”

“I love you,” she said. Killian could hear the depth of emotion in her voice, and he stepped closer to Emma, wrapping her in his arms.  This…was just too close for comfort to what he and his own true love had gone through only a matter of weeks ago.

“I love you too,” Hercules said.

After taking a deep breath, Hercules stepped out of Megara’s embrace and turned toward the fury, who had stopped as though waiting for the farewell. “Very well.  I’m ready.”

The fury nodded and moved forward.

But it passed Hercules and wrapped it’s talons onto Megara. She cried out as it lifted her in the air and began flying swiftly away.

“No!” Hercules shouted, breaking into a run. “It was supposed to be me! _I’m_ the one destined for the Underworld not her!”

It soon became apparent that Hercules…and the rest of them, who had joined him in his headlong run, had no hope of keeping up with the quickly moving fury. After moments, the creature was out of sight, Megara’s shouts no longer able to be heard.

Hercules ran a hand through his hair, cursing fluently.

“Calm down, Wonderboy,” Regina said sternly.

He stopped pacing to throw her a venomous glared. “Calm _down_?!  You watch _your_ True Love be carried away by that creature and _then_ maybe you’ll have room to tell me to calm down!  I need to find out where it took her; I need to get her back; I need…”

“Enough!” Regina said firmly. “It just so happens, I know _exactly_ how it feels to have my True Love carried away by a fury.  It happened to me a few weeks before our little vacation in hell.  And if you’d shut up for two minutes at a time, I could tell you how to get to it—and how to stop it.”

Hercules took a deep breath and ran his hand once more through his hair. Finally he turned back toward Regina.  “I apologize.  Please continue.”

“We know that the fury takes its victim to the lake—the site of a portal to the Underworld.”

“But we’ll never get there in time!” Hercules said. “It’s a good quarter hours walk from here!”

“Lucky for you,” Regina said, “we have magic. Mrs. Jones, would you take your husband and the lovesick god?  I’ll transport Robin.”

Beside Killian, Emma nodded then instructed him and Hercules to each take one of her hands. She waited until they complied, and then nodded her head, smoke coming up to cover them.  When it cleared, they were at the lake, Regina and Robin materializing only moments afterward.

Thee fury was nowhere in sight, but Killian’s stomach dropped when he saw who was. None other than Charon waiting on his barge.  It all hit far too close to home after his own ordeal with death.

They heard the screech of the fury, Meg yelling, before they appeared in view.

“Now what, your evil majesty?” Hercules asked

“ _Formerly_ evil majesty,” Regina muttered.  “We distract the fury, step before it, share its effects among all of us.  Worked for us last time.”

It was a good plan that had worked like a charm last time.

But this time it failed.

They did everything in their power to get the fury’s attention, yelling, waving, jumping up and down, shooting arrows and fireballs. Nothing deterred it.  It continued flying steadily, evidently intent on Charon’s barge.

It would appear the Underworld was determined to get Megara’s soul for itself.

They fought on as long as they could, but finally the fury reached its goal. It set Meg (none too gently) down in the barge and nodded for Charon to take off.

“No!” Hercules yelled to the heavens, anger coming from him in waves. “I made a vow!  A _vow_!  I fulfilled my end of the bargain.  I did what I promised! _I’m_ the one who should be on that barge!”

He railed on for several moments, hurling imprecation after imprecation at the heaven. Finally, as Charon’s barge disappeared into the fog, Hercules’ strength seemed to give out, and he dropped to the ground.

Suddenly, the North Star began glowing. It got larger and larger, the light it exuded growing with every moment.  Finally, the star reached the earth, it’s illumination as bright as the noonday sun.  Killian shaded his eyes, watching curiously as the light slowly dimmed to reveal a man.

He glowed in much the same way Hercules had when he’d walked through Megara. He stood tall and stately, his white robes belted at the waist with a golden cord. 

“Rise, my son,” the man said, reaching a hand down to Hercules.

“Zeus,” Robin muttered softly, voice awed.

“In the flesh,” the man…no, the _god_ replied, sketching a deep bow.

Slowly, almost painfully, Hercules got to his feet, the anger and pain still sketched deeply into his handsome features.

“My son,” Zeus said, voice kind and compassionate. “You have now completed your final task.  In being willing to offer your life for the woman you love, you have become a true hero and have fully restored your god status.  It’s time for you to return to Mount Olympus, as is your birthright.”

Zeus moved forward as though to embrace his son, but Hercules sidestepped his proposed embrace. “No, father,” he said bitterly.  “I no longer have any desire to live as a god.  I have no desire to live among gods and goddesses who turn back on their promises.”

Zeus’s brow furrowed. “You speak of your vow, do you not?”

“Yes,” Hercules spat. “Meg should be alive.  Meg should be here and _I_ should be on that barge headed back to the Underworld.  I made a deal!  My life and godhood for her life!”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, my son,” Zeus said sorrowfully. “Your truest act of heroism restored your full godhood and destroyed your last vestiges of humanity.  Quite simply there was no humanity left to bequeath to your lady love.”

“Surely there’s something you can do,” Emma said, holding tightly to Killian’s arm. “Seems pretty messed up that he became a true hero and his reward is to lose his true love.  Trust me, I _know_ how excruciating that is.”

Zeus seemed to ponder the situation for a moment. Eventually he smiled.  “There is, indeed one possibility.”

“What?” Hercules asked, “I’ll do anything! Just restore Meg to life!”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Zeus said, “but that doesn’t mean you must be separated from her. When Hades was defeated, he and his cohorts were sent immediately to hell.  My wayward brother, being a god, cannot be denied his rule, but as punishment for his crimes, he’s been relegated to the rule of hell and only of hell.  This, of course, leaves the Underworld leaderless.”

“Pardon me,” Killian said, “but how does this help Hercules return to his true love?”

“I may not be able to free Megara from the Underworld, but if Hercules agrees to become the ruler of that land, he will once again be reunited with her. Together they can run the Underworld as it was meant to be ruled.  They can be servant leaders, helping their people work through their unfinished business and safely reach their eternal destination.  Would such an arrangement be pleasing to you, my son?”

As Zeus spoke, Hercules began glowing, his look of pain and despair transforming into one of utter joy. “I cannot speak for her definitively, but for my part, I would be honored, Father.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

After bidding them goodbye, Hercules stepped with his godly father into the light, presumably to reunite with his Megara and take up his post as ruler as the Underworld.   Emma, Killian, Regina and Robin watched until the light disappeared behind the gods, and then rushed home, intent on finding Henry, making sure he’d survived the last couple of hours as well as they had.

After a round of drinks—hot cocoa with cinnamon for Henry and the pregnant Belle, and something a bit stronger for the rest of them, Henry had matter-of-factly declared that Emma and Killian needed their privacy. He’d insisted on staying with Regina for the next week so that they could have it. 

Emma wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so after bidding farewell to her son and parents (and making it clear that she and Killian were not to be disturbed during the next week for anything less monumental than the _literal_ end of the world), she’d poofed herself and her husband back to the house by the sea.

Though staying home was not exactly the honeymoon most couples dreamed of, it _worked_ for Emma and Killian.  They spent long hours talking, planning their future, planning a total redecoration of the house whose furniture reminded Emma far too much of her time as the Dark One, laughing and generally falling more deeply in love with every passing moment.

Of course, it went without saying that the two of them spent long hours breaking in their new king sized bed. (On the first morning, Killian had wiggled his eyebrows and pointed out that with Emma’s ability to poof victuals from Granny’s they had virtually no reason to ever leave their bed.)

For the most part, the town respected Emma’s firm insistence that they not be disturbed—once they figured out the savior was truly out of commission.

It was the morning of the second day of their “staycation” honeymoon, their kisses once more becoming fevered, their hands beginning to wander, things about to get interesting once again, that Emma’s phone began to buzz from its place on her nightstand. Killian groaned, reached over, grabbed the offending device and answered it with a surly “What the bloody hell do you want?”

Emma chuckled as she buried her face into his should and then began kissing a path across his chest.

“I _want_ the sheriff,” Leroy said irritably.  “Dopey ate all Granny’s bacon.  Didn’t leave me so much as a crumb.  That’s theft in my book, and I want some justice!”

Killian muttered something about where Leroy could shove his bacon as Emma settled back, continuing to laugh.

“Leroy,” Killian said in a voice of forced patience. “Mate, did you by any chance happen to see the notice on the front door of my wife’s and my house?”

“Um…yeah.”

“Splendid,” Killian said. “Then you know we are not to be disturbed for anything less than the end of the world.  Tell me.  Is the world _literally_ coming to an end?”

“Well…no,” he admitted, “but…”

“And is there not another sheriff in this town? One who is fully capable of dealing with the pilfering of pork products?”

“Well…yeah, I guess so.”

“Excellent,” Killian said. “So, and I mean this in the kindest way possible.  Leave my wife and I the hell alone.”

He’d hung up, thrown the offending talking phone across the room and then turned back to Emma. “Now love, where were we?”

Emma grinned. “I think you were just about to…” and then she leaned in to whisper something in her husband’s ear that had him growling in appreciation.

“As my lady wife wishes.”

But as perfect and blissful as the week alone was, all good things must come to an end. Bright and early on the morning of the eighth day back, their doorbell began ringing insistently.  Killian grumbled as the two of them got dressed and headed for the stairs.

Emma pulled the door open and was almost knocked over when her thirteen-year-old bowled into her, wrapping her in an exuberant hug, followed by Snow and Charming.

“How was your honeymoon?” Snow asked. “Did you have a good time?  What did you find to do to fill your time?”

David groaned. “Yeah…don’t answer that last one.”

Emma chuckled, feeling Killian wrap his arm around her waist. “I’ll spare you the details.”

“But aye,” Killian said with a mischievous grin. “To answer your earlier question, Lady Snow, we had quite the spectacular time.”

“Again,” David said, covering his face, “this is one of those things I _don’t_ want to know about.”

“So,” Snow said, holding up a box and a carrier filled with steaming cups, “we brought breakfast.”

“You guys are the world’s best parents,” Emma said, taking the box from her mother, and spreading the breakfast offerings on the table. “Grab a plate everyone, and let’s dig in.”

There was virtual silence in the house by the sea for several minutes afterwards. The only sounds the clinking of dishes, exclamations of approval, as the family demolished the full breakfast before them.

“So, what’s been going on around here while we were out,” Emma asked, once the meal came to an end. “Any new villains?  Curses?  Did Leroy ever get justice for the bacon theft.”

Charming laughed. “Well, Leroy lodged a formal complaint, and I paid a visit to Dopey and had a talk with him about how it’s really not polite to eat all the bacon without checking to make sure someone else doesn’t want a piece.  Only way I could find to shut Leroy up.”

Emma laughed. “So what about the rest?”

“It’s been quiet around here, believe it or not,” Henry said. “Not a single crises the entire week!”

“Well, lad, that must be a record for this town,” Killian said with a smile.

“Probably,” Henry answered, sneaking one more donut out of the box. “Definitely haven’t had this much peace since Grandma Belle banished Grandpa Rumple after that whole Snow Queen situation.”

At the mention of the Dark One, the group around the table sobered.

“Just what is my old Crocodile up to these days?” Killian asked.

Emma reached over and grabbed his hand, sensing the distress, the anger her husband was carefully keeping under control.

“He’s facing justice,” David said in a hard voice. “When we got back, we put him on trial; let the whole town vote on his sentence, since the whole town have been his victims.  We decided to slap him with life in prison.”

“You’ve got him locked in our jail?” Emma said with a groan. “You mean I’ll have to deal with him every single day when I go into work.”

Henry shook his head. “Nope.  Grandma came up with a better solution than that.”

“Yeah, mom? What’s that?” Emma asked.

“The mines,” Snow said with a shrug. Worked for us back in the Enchanted Forest.  We figured it would work again here.  We’ve got rumple incarcerated in a cell down in the mines.”

“Life imprisonment,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Seems pretty rough to be stuck down in that dark cave for the rest of your life.  Granted, I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”

“We thought about that,” Henry said. “Hook, my other mom, you were both big villains, did terrible things, but you _changed_.  You became heroes.  We decided to give Rumple that chance too.”

“He’s got a life sentence,” David said, “but he does have the possibility of parole—if, that is, he ever decides to turn his life around and make restitution for his crimes. He’s got to find a way to truly convince us of his sincerity, though.  The whole town.  Only way he’ll ever get out of there.”

“What was his reaction to that?”

“He threatened us all within an inch of our lives and promised to start planning escape.”

“So, apparently he’s not up for the whole redemption path?” Emma said.

Snow laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.  At least for the moment.  I still have hope he can turn it around one day, though, despite everything he’s done.”

“Always the hopeful one, aren’t you, my lady?” Killian said with a grin.

“I like to think so.”

The smile slid from Killian’s face. “And Belle?  What’s become of her?  The Crocodile is a right son of a bitch, but the lass doesn’t deserve the consequences of his villainy.”

Henry shrugged. “She’s…sad, but I think she’s doing okay.  She’s back to working at the library and she’s taken a room at Granny’s.”

“She left Rumple,” Snow said. “Apparently it was a big scene, her yelling and him pleading.  She’s told him she and their baby will be better off without him as he currently is.”

“So that’s it, then?” Emma asked.

“Not entirely,” David said. “She’s basically given him an ultimatum.  He has to be redeemed and he has to find a way to show her he chooses her and the baby over power before she’ll come back to him.”

“How exactly he might do that, I have no idea, given the fact that his power was destroyed in the battle with Hades,” Snow answered. “I guess that’s his problem to figure out.”

“And of course,” Charming said, “she’s made it crystal clear that if he should demonstrate redemption and a choosing of her over power it will be his _last_ chance.  If he so much as lies to her about whether or not he took out the garbage she and the baby are gone.  Forever.  He’ll never get another chance.”

“Seems fair,” Emma said.

A lull fell over the conversation as they cleaned up after breakfast. Everything tidied once again, the adults made their way to the living room while Henry wandered upstairs to check out the room that would be his during the times he was living with them. Emma sat with Killian on the loveseat, his arm around her shoulders, her head against his chest. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” David said, looking around. “Never really got a chance to see it…well…before.”

Emma glanced aside, a pang going through her at the mention of the weeks she spent as the Dark Swan, pushing her family away, planning terrible things for good reasons.

“Yeah,” Snow said, breaking the sudden tension that had descended. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of rooms upstairs.  Plenty of room for when you two decide to give us another grandchild or two.”

Emma laughed. “Mom, we just got married.  Think we might need a little time before we start planning to bring any little Emmas or little Killians into the world.”

“Not, of course,” Killian said with a grin, “that we’ll have the least objection to making said lads and lasses when the time comes.”

“Watch it pirate!” David growled.

Emma laughed again. “We do want kids… _someday_.”

“Works for me,” Snow said. “Now, as it turns out, we had a few reasons for coming here besides just bringing breakfast.”

“Aye, my lady?” Killian asked, his hand absently caressing Emma’s arm.

“Yeah,” she said. “We were thinking we need to have a big, town-wide party!”

“Um…” Emma said, “why?”

“We figured the pirate deserved a ‘Welcome back to life; we’re glad you’re not dead’ party,” David said. “Least we could do for our new son-in-law.”

Emma looked up at Killian, her smile becoming tender as she noted the surprised, pleased look on his face. “My thanks,” Killian said finally, “it would be a great honor.”

“Think nothing of it!” Snow said. “So, we were thinking, we’ll have it at Granny’s, of course.  We could have…”

Emma stopped them with a raised hand. “Yeah, how about not.”

“How about not _what_?” David asked.

“How about not Granny’s” Emma said with a quirk of her brow. “Seems to me every single time we all gather there for a celebration some crisis happens.  I think she’s a jinx.”

“You have a point about that,” Snow agreed. “But if not there, where?  There aren’t that many places around here big enough to host a town-wide party.”

“Why not here?” Killian asked with a slight shrug. “Our house is large enough to host such a party.  In addition to celebrating my—all of our return—it could also serve as a housewarming.”

“That’s a _fantastic_ idea, Killian!” Snow gushed.  “We’ll have to get together sometime to talk about the details.  But for now, there are _other_ details we really need to get started on.”

“Okay…” Emma said, drawing out the word. “Just what are we deciding on details for?”

“Your _wedding_ of course!” Snow said.  Emma couldn’t help but smile.  Her mom was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Should have known we wouldn’t have more than a week before she descended on us,” Emma said, smiling up at Killian.

“You…you still _want_ to have a formal wedding here in Storybrooke, don’t you?” Snow asked, disappointment clear in her eyes.

“Of course mom,” Emma answered. “Like we said after our first wedding.  We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

And as Snow went on and on about venues and colors and dresses and receptions and everything else related to weddings, Emma smiled to herself. It was very true.  She wouldn’t miss any of this for the world.

Emma Swan was no stranger to loss, that was true, but thanks to these wonderful people in her house, she knew she’d never again be a stranger to love either.

The End!

 

_Notes:_

_\--Well there you have it!  I really, really wanted to get this fic completed before the 5b finale, but this weekend was just one of those impossible times for writers.  During the moments the muse was all fired up and ready to write, I was busy with other commitments.  Then when I actually had time to write the muse was MIA.  *shrug* What are you going to do?_

_\--So obviously my version of 5b was quite a bit different from canon 5b (and my finale was WAY different!). Hopefully you enjoyed this canon divergence!_

_\--Thank you so much to everyone who’s followed, favorited and reviewed this story! You’ve really inspired me to keep going and reach the finish line._

_\--Up next: ….well nothing for this story. I will, however, continue updating “Fluffy Fridays” as long as time permits._

_\--As far as future stories…well…my plan is to take a nice long writing hiatus to deal with all the busy-ness in my non-fandom life, but who knows? Just this morning I was thinking about what I would have liked for the finale, and it made the muse sit up and sniff the air.  Could be if I get a handle on things IRL, there might be a new MC in the works…_


End file.
